Dead & Dealing
by Artie Gallezi
Summary: To Dominick "The Ductor" Valentino, the idea of a happy family was just that, an idea. His father had ignored and practically abandoned him to his mother for most of his human life and his Maker had actually abandoned him after hardly a year and half. So imagine his surprise when two families, each with their own immense power, ask him to join them. (Sequel to Dead & Living) OC/AU
1. Prologue

Eric Northman was silently fuming at how his bar, simply named Dupuis's Bar, was doing.

It sat in an excellent location in a very busy shopping plaza with many little privately owned stores and a couple much larger corporately owned shops like Toys ' R Us and Sam's. He had been told it was one of the most sought after location in all of Shreveport. Still, he was unhappy with how little patronage his establishment was receiving. Despite his better judgement, he was having the feeling he had been tricked. Then he shook it off. He had paid a great deal of money to secure the bar's location and his human proxy was not foolish enough to betray him. Plus there was also the countless offers he had been receiving to sell and not one could be called small.

But all that seemed to count for nothing this night, he observed. He was sitting at the end of the bar with his back at the wall as he pretended to nurse a mug of beer while thought of ways to increase revenue. He could have some of the booths and tables removed to have some sort of dance floor and perhaps a small stage for live performances, but that seemed too drastic. He had already taken an ad out in several locals newspapers so it was not lack of knowledge that was the source. The prices of drinks were low enough for his tastes and he had caught the few patrons agreeing with this view.

His thoughts were interrupted by his human proxy, who also served as the bartender, approached him. "Master?"

"Yes, Alex?" Eric's tone suggested that whatever reason Alex had for interrupting him be better be good.

"There is phone call for you, master." Alex doing her best to not sound timid. "Should I take a message?"

"Who is calling?" Eric asked. "If they are curious if we are open to selling, tell them no."

"No. It's not them. It is on your cell phone. The one you had buy last week?" Alex said. "The caller ID says it is someone named Pam."

"Ah, I see." He held out a hand for the phone. "I will speak with her." Once he held the phone he said to Alex. "Take this beer away." Into the phone he said. "I am here."

"That could be anywhere." said a teasing female voice Eric knew belonged to his child, Pam. "Though I take it you are still in Shreveport."

"Yes." Eric asked. "To what do I the pleasure? Has Minnesota yielded all it has to offer as far as entertainment?"

"Yes, but that is not the reason I called you." Pam said seriously. "Have you noticed any of local Were acting strange or any sudden lack of them?"

"No, I have not." Eric was puzzled. "Why should that concern me?"

"Something is stirring." Pam said ominously. "Something in the far east among the Moshup Clan."

"Stop with the dramatics, Pam." Eric said firmly. "Now, explain."

"I met with vampire who had fled from the far east last night." Pam continued. "She was seeking her maker whom she knew was here. She fears there might be a war among the vampires and Weres."

"Where?" Eric did not like the sound of that. "Surely not every pack has joined against us."

"No." Pam reassured. "From what she said, the Weres of New York City and Long Island have a very large bone to pick with our kind." Pam paused. "She did not elaborate as to who began the hostilities, but rumor has it a pack attacked one of the sheriffs and his nest."

"Not a very smart move." Eric commented

"Yes, but what came next goes beyond very smart." Pam continued. "She said a visiting vampire was caught up in the battle captured a high ranking Were and devised a plan and completely wiped out the pack in the very same night."

"Impressive."

"That merely a small skirmish she says compared to what occurred a few months later." Pam sounded in awe. "Two, much larger packs, join forces and begin retaliating against another sheriff. The sheriff spends months searching for them and fails at every opportunity as does all those under his command."

"So he decided to call upon the aid of this vampire whom had solved the same problem for another sheriff." Eric concluded.

"Not right away. I would guess he did not wish to acknowledge he required any assistance in maintaining order." Pam said simply. "The Weres soon begin ambushing any vampire they see throughout the city including the sheriff's child."

"Then he calls upon the vampire." Eric guessed.

"No." Pam sounded smug. "The vampire came to him."

"What?"

"Because the sheriff did not issue a warning to those in his areas, he and his maker were captured." Pam's voice now had slight hint of awe and respect. "The way she heard was as soon as he awakens, he breaks his bonds, kills his guards, and frees the sheriff's child. From there he locates and rescues his maker before killing some sort of high ranking member and setting the whole building ablaze." A hint of fear mixed with Pam's awe. "He then finds their hidden bases they use for the full moon within the night and advises the sheriff to end the fighting and send a message to the other packs."

"Calm yourself, Pam." Eric warned. "What have I told you about such things?"

"Believe half of what you see, but none of what you hear." Pam recited lazily.

"It makes for an exciting tale, I grant you that." Eric admitted.

"In that case, I don't think I will be canceling my trip."

"Trip?"

"To New York City." Pam said. "I've been meaning to — "

"No!" Eric snapped, instantly leaning forward. "Don't you dare!"

"But — "

"I do not care what your reasons." Eric ordered. "Only a fool would enter New York now. To say nothing of the tension within the city."

"But it's Fashion Week in a couple of months!" Pam protested.

"What?"

"Fashion Week!" Pam repeated. "It is an industry event, lasting approximately one week, which allows fashion designers, brands to display their latest collections in runway shows. It allows both private and corporate buyers and the media to take a look at the latest trends."

"So?" Eric growled. It still surprised the lengths Pam would go for fashionable clothing. "Are there not other shows? In safer kingdoms?"

"Not in the country." Pam grumbled. "The rest of shows are in Milan and London."

"Then I suggest either arranging transportation and lodgings for those shows or simply wait until events settle down in New York." Eric offered. "As farfetched as what you have told me is, vampires do not flee without reason."

"That is true." Pam admitted.

"By the way, you would not happen to have a name for this upstart?" Eric explained. "He has certainly made enemies where he is."

"You think he'd seek refuge in Louisiana?" Pam asked. "He could easily seek shelter in Nevada or Texas. Or even to the European kingdoms."

"New Orleans is a mecca for us." Eric reminded. "With a high vampire population and Sophie-Anne's reputation, it would be the smart move and he is smart if anything."

"But would Sophie-Anne allow him to stay?" Pam sounded unsure. "He might literally bring enemies to her door."

"She would be beside herself. Once she hears of him, she will gladly extend her safety." Eric chuckled. "Between the two of them, I would not want to be on either one of their bad graces." Eric asked again. "So do you have a name? I might be able to improve my standing if I can barter his safety with the queen."

"His true name? I'm afraid none but the sheriffs know that." Pam sounded sorry. "The Weres do have name for him, however."

"What it is?" Eric asked.

"The Ductor." Pam asked. "I'm not sure what it means."

"It is Latin." Eric translated. "The Were are calling him The Leader."


	2. Cats & Dogs

You just have to love New York City.

I mean, where else could an infant vampire carrying a bleeding and naked Shifter wrapped in a World War Two inspired greatcoat hail a cab hardly a dozen yards from a multiple homicide?

Most taxi drivers, even the corporately frowned upon gypsy cabs, would either refuse to take such a pair or ask a million questions along the way. They might even decide to drive to the nearest police precinct, but the elderly driver who sounded as if he might be from Russia merely asked for a destination and nodded. Say what you will about the stereotypical and famous New York attitude, but sometimes it truly is The City of Friendly People.

As the Russian rushed through traffic, I kept a finger on Christine's pulse. It seemed to be rapid, but growing weaker. At least, it felt that way to me if I went by I felt when I fed. I made a mental note to find a book on human anatomy or have Sally provide some much needed information. Other than it was considered a tissue by the medical community and not a liquid and it was essential in bringing oxygen to every inch of the body, I really did not know much about blood. For some genius who had put a very significant dent in local Were population, I knew surprisingly little of my own kind.

"Dom?" Christine's asked, her voice hardly audible even to me. "Dom . . . where . . ."

"I'm here." I said gently as I looked down.

She looked pale and her blood was beginning to soak through the thick wool of the greatcoat, along with the irresistible scent of her blood. It was then I realized that I had made five fresh, and if was honest with myself, satisfying kills and passed up all their blood. I made an effort to keep my fangs retracted when I spoke. Christine had enough to be frightened of.

"Where . . ." She said again.

"I'm taking you home." I said quietly. "I need you to stay awake." I think it would wise if she did so. "Can you do that?"

"So . . . cold." Her eyes fluttered and her breathing was becoming short and labored. "Too . . . cold . . . for . . . "

"I know." I looked up to see we were coming to a stop. "Just a little longer and I'll make you some soup." I allowed myself a deep whiff of the sweet scent in small space of the cab. "And a warm bath."

"Here!" the driver shouted. "Broadway 'n Walker."

"Thank you." I held out a few hundred dollars. "Keep the change." He reached for the money, but I held onto to it for a moment. "Do you want to earn more?" I smiled when he nodded. "Then forget you saw us." I held up another hundred in my free hand. "Deal?"

"Deal!" He took the money and gave me a bright smile. "I no supposed to be driving anyway." He shrugged. "No license or green card."

My feet hardly touched the ground when the taxi sped down the street and I took off much faster toward the back the building. It was actually a maintenance entrance that the building had for plumbers and the like came to repair something, but the door was always unlocked and no one ever used it which was I needed. The stairwell was just as empty and if I missed someone, I doubt they saw more than a blur and would probably say they saw a ghost.

I reached the twelfth floor and poked my head inside the hallway. When I saw and heard no one was about to enter or leave in just that moment, I reached into my coat and retrieved my keys. Some of Christine's blood had soaked through and coated the keys like chocolate that coated strawberries. i resisted the urge to lick them clean and found the key to the apartment. The less time I spent in the hallway, the better.

"Dom?" Her voice so soft, I almost didn't hear. "Can't . . . "

"I know." I reached door 221B in the blink of an eye. "Only a few more seconds, I promise."

I entered the apartment and kicked the door closed behind me. I quickly set Christine down on the couch. Unfortunately it meant interrupting Tux's nap and her growl told me she did take kindly to being kicked off the couch to boot. I ignored her and went back to retrieve my keys and properly locked the door. It never bothered me before, but I felt doubtful about the lock in the doorknob even with the separate deadbolt and chain. Even a human could kick in the door if they had a mind to. A Were or another vampire might give me a few seconds by laughing, but that was the extent.

I heard Christine cough and was at her side before she could draw ina breath. I pulled away my coat and looked at the hole in her hip. The bleeding had slowed, but I had the suspicion it was because there wasn't much left. I checked her pulse again and it had gotten weaker. I had to work fast and first thing I had to was remove the bullet. I had just bent my mouth to the wound, but a thought came to me. I carefully turned her over. It would just be my luck to try to suck out a bullet that had gone through. She did not yelp or otherwise protest to this and she was probably to delirious from blood loss to understand what was going on.

I saw there was no exit wound so I assumed the bullet was still lodged in her hip. I also saw she gotten a tattoo since I last saw her. It wasn't on her a lower back like i had seen some women had, but off to the side on her hip. Had the bullet gone through it would have destroyed the image. That image was the head of a doberman with undocked ears that had an asklepian in its mouth like chew toy. I couldn't help how much like the doberman looked Christine when she was in that form, but the asklepian made no sense to me.

I gently turned her again on her back and bent to her wound. Quickly, I sank my fangs into her hips and closed my mouth around the wound. I heard her make a sound somewhere between a yelp and grunt, but I wasn't about to stop. The rest was no different from a feeding, minus the seducing and probably the sex after said seducing. I sucked hard for barely thirty seconds when a felt and tasted a lump of metal pop into my mouth. I gripped it between my teeth and swallowed the last mouthful of Christine's blood which I noted had a salty hint to it. I briefly wondered if that meant she had consumed too much salt or it was how Shifter blood tasted.

I took the bullet from my mouth and noticed it now looked like a copper mushroom with a flat head. It still had a thin coat of blood mixed with my saliva as I set aside on the coffee table and licked clean the wound. I saw that the wound had stopped bleeding significantly and I remembered that SHE had mentioned that our saliva has a mild coagulant that helps sealing the tiny pricks our fangs left when we fed. Unfortunately, that was not going to be enough. To be safe, I pricked a finger on a fang and dripped a couple of drops of my blood into the wound. It instantly stopped bleeding and began to scab around the edge. I made a mental note to apply antiseptic and a bandage later, but that would have to wait.

I licked my lips and wiped my mouth, wishing for more blood, as I knelt by Christine. "Can you hear me?" I asked. "Are you awake."

"My side . . ." She managed a weak smile. "It . . . hurts . . . less."

"That's good." I said. "But now I need you to drink something. It will help."

She opened her mouth slightly.

So that would not protest, and because I did not enjoy the feeling when it was self induced, I quickly bit my where my radial artery was and pressed my forearm against her mouth. At first only a few drops seemed to go down while a lot of my blood dribbled down her chin, but she latched onto my arm like a barnacle half a beat later. One of her hands gripped my wrist surprisingly tight and pressed me harder against her mouth.

Despite the events that led up to it, part of me realized I had finally seen her naked. Of course, I had preferred more of a build up and certainly more voluntary then events had provided, but best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I suppose I should have been more courteous and covered her or averted my eyes, but I didn't. I do have my limits like any other. There was also the fact her taking of my blood was exciting me. It didn't surprise me. I had lost count how many times SHE and I took blood from each other while in bed together. As far as my hormones, or whatever the vampire equivilant was, Christine's mouth was on another body part entirely. The same part that was making my boxers uncomfortably too small.

I let it continue for a bit. I figured with my youth and my uncertainty of how severe the damage was, the more of my blood she had the better off she would be. I did however stop when I began to feel weak. Christine fought me slightly, but I managed to pry my arm away. It did not surprise me. I recalled briefly how delicious and powerful I felt when I had tasted vampire blood. Granted it had only been for a few minutes before I passed out, but I had felt it.

I guessed she would be heal just fine. Her skin had regained most of its color and her breathing seemed normal. A bit deep like she had run a mile or done something a bit more enjoyable. I remembered that Kimberly mentioned that a major side effect of vampire blood, regardless if use to heal injuries or not, was a highly increased libido. I figured Christine wouldn't mind a sleepless night or two considering the alternative. Not that I planned to use that to my advantage. It was severely tempted, but I had come to enjoy the chase so to speak. One of my old human friends, Eric, would say it was like playing tennis with the net down. Although, he had been referring to Tasha at the time and not Christine which I suppose was true as far as reputation was concerned.

"Dom?" Her voice didn't sound as labored as before which I took as an improvement.

"I'm here." I knelt by her head so she could catch my eye. "You're still hurt."

"Hurt?" She repeated when my glamor took effect.

"Yes." I said. "You need to rest. Just go to sleep and you'll feel much better."

"Really?" She frowned for moment. "Hold on . . . I was shot." She seemed to be looking for confirmation. "I was. Wasn't I?"

"Yes." I nodded and pushed my glamor a bit harder. "But I gave you some really strong drugs and it's better if you don't fight them and sleep. Okay?"

"Okay." She closed her eyes and drifted off, but her mouth seemed lag behind the rest. "Just . . . make . . . sure . . . to . . . to . . . check . . . my . . . O2 sat . . . and . . ."

I felt a ton disappear and my shoulders dropped. Now I find a place for her to rest. I couldn't just leave her naked on my couch with blood stained greatcoat as a blanket. My bed was out of the question, but not because I did not wish give up my bed for the day. On the contrary, I wouldn't mind in the slightest if Christine wished to share my bed, although I'd prefer under better circumstances. It was security issue.

Christine was a Shifter and I had no idea how she would react to waking up in an apartment she had never been to that reeked of only knew what she might do if she woke up in the same room with a sleeping vampire that happened to be a close friend she thought dead for the past two years. She might decide to do something rash involving a broken chair leg just easily as she might simply panic and leave the apartment.

I ran a mental list of the rooms available. Doyle and Regina's old room were currently my empty library and had no bed. A few comfortable leather recliners and a large desk, but no bed. Adrian's room was currently filled with the furniture he, Doyle, and Regina had left behind. With three beds, six night stands, and three trunks with some old forgotten pieces of clothing, one could barely open the door all the way. Then I remembered there was an empty room with a bed. A room I hadn't entered and had gone out of my way to ignore for past few months.

I opened the door to HER room.

Everything was as SHE had left it. Like the others, SHE hadn't taken any furniture with her. The canopy bed hadn't moved as did the two nightstands. The dresser still sat where it had and a large leather bound trunk was still at the foot of the bed. SHE did take the Wallace sword and hammer with her, but that was the extent of it. I did not like the idea of Christine, or anyone, sleeping in this room, but I had to be practical. I quickly found an old broom in the kitchen and swept the floor of her room. It wasn't surprising that after a few months of neglect everything had acquired a thin layer of dust. I also quickly mopped afterword and remade the bed with fresh sheets after flipping the mattress.

Once I finished hardly five minutes later, a thought occurred that Christine was going to need clothes. I opened the trunk and saw something had been left behind. Fortunately for Christine, it was a silk lavender nightgown with the tag still attached. It didn't surprise me because I knew, one way or another, SHE always slept in the nude. I guess the nightgown had been a gift of some sort.

So I carefully slipped the nightgown on Christine. It seemed a little tight around the chest, but it was long enough so that she would think she was wearing lingerie. Even to me that seemed creepy. So I covered her and did a quick visual exam. She looked like she would make a full recovery. Her skin had claimed almost all of its previous color and it was warm, almost hot, to the touch when I laid her down. Her breathing and heart sounded slow and regular to my ears. With nothing else to do for her, I turned off the lights and went to the living room where I found Tux sniffing at the bloody coat.

"I know." I told her."Barnabe is not going to be happy."

I sank into a recliner and hopped into my lap without a word. Like I knew she would, Tux began purring the second I began scratching behind her ears. I let myself relax in the task and wondered what would happen next, or rather, the next night. It just went to show that killing five humans in an alley, transporting a bleeding Shifter down seven crowded city blocks and up twelve floors - all without being seen or having to stop to kill witnesses - then treat her wounds, clean my Maker's old room, then finally dressing her my Maker's nightgown before laying her down to rest in my Maker's bed would be the easy part.

Sooner or later, Christine would have to wake up and she would have to leave. To say I was conflicted was putting it mildly. She had known me when I was human, which under normal vampiric circumstances was highly dangerous. But these weren't normal vampiric circumstances. Christine was a Shifter so therefor part of same hidden world as I was. So I guessed she could be trusted to keep a secrete and knew some of our rules. She had to know that if she told any human, my family or others, then she'd be putting their lives in danger and as a would be doctor, she would want to save lives not end them.

The simple answer would be to glamor her and have her forget she ever saw me, but I wanted to avoid that. Maybe, I still cared about her. I might even still think I love her on some level. Maybe after all I've said and done about not wishing to go back to my human life, I wanted something familiar. It made sense when I tried to think about it. When I was turned, I wanted nothing more than to go back home. To return to something familiar and safe. It might not have been pleasant, but it had been all I knew. I did eventually learn to accept and even revel in my new life. So was it so out of the question that when it happened again that I'd be tempted by something from my past?

Did I want a relationship with Christine?

For a possible genius, I couldn't seem to come up with an answer. I knew I did when I was human, but that ship sailed a while ago. I knew now that sometimes women just only saw you as friend. Just because I had feelings for her did not mean she was obligated to do the same. It couldn't just end well. A traditional relationship was impossible. Oh we might have a fun night in bed here and there, but she couldn't stay young forever.

Right now she is probably focused on her career as a doctor, but what about ten years down the line when she wants to settle down and have children? I couldn't give her that. Even if I could give her a family, what woman would be happy with a man that couldn't take her and the kids to the beach on a sunny day? What child would want a father that couldn't be there for their little league games or their class's rendition of Romeo & Juliet? I'd be just like my father. Only I'd feel something because I actually would care.

Even if she gives that up which I highly doubted, there was still the huge problem that I will always look twenty-one. Sure, it might be fun when she is the cougar on the prowl when she's in her forties, but we would definitely get some stares when she hits her golden years. To say nothing the damage it would take on the children. Call me insane, but idea of burying generation after generation of my own bloodline does not appeal to me at all. A simple answer would be to turn her, but no Shifter would agree to that. Not to mention that the child eventually has to leave the Maker's side whether it was ten years or fifty.

Maybe I should just tell how I felt and see from there.

"Ow!" I said, startled.

I looked down to see Tux had rolled onto her back and was chewing on my hand. I must have retreated into myself without meaning to and not one for being ignored, Tux snapped me out of it. I smiled and began teasing her belly which she pretended to dislike by pushing my hand away and nipping at my hand with her teeth. She must have been more intelligent than I first thought because she never bit or scratched hard enough to break the skin when I played with her like that. She had come close a few times when she had gotten over excited, but no cigar as they say.

Like any spoiled child with a toy, Tux quickly grew bored and hopped off my lap. I envied her in a way. Some food, a warm bed, and someone to tickle her now and then was all she really needed or wanted. She reminded me of how most vampire probably viewed the world. Humans, undead or otherwise, were there to provide food and clean up after her. They were also expected to drop everything at the drop of the hat should she feel bored and demanded attention and should be more than grateful for whatever paltry amount of affection she gave.

"It's your world and we're just living in it." I said musingly. "Right?"

"Rrrow." Tux said which I took for a confirmation and began rubbing against the backpack Mae had left.

"Thanks for reminding me." I stood up and took the bag into the library. "Funny, three years ago I thought the only time I'd see this kind of money in a boring action movie."

"Rroow" Tux responded as she followed.

"I don't know." I set the back next to the desk. "Something with Schwarzenegger or Stallone." I knelt by the desk and removed two screws from two small rails hidden by the thick carpeting. "Maybe even Bruce Willis."

I then stood and pulled the desk gently while I lifted it slightly to reveal one of the two secret bolt holes I had.

When I remodeled, I couldn't think of a way to use the false bottoms where Regina and Doyle's coffins had been. I reasoned that I might need the extra sleeping space for one reason or another. I had gotten the idea one night when one of the drawers of my old dresser had become stuck. Of course like an idiot, I gave it a hard yank and it came flying out. When I looked inside, inspiration hit me.

I had quickly emptied and dismantled the dresser. Then I screwed and hammered the tiny metal railings into the wood floor by the hole. A quick trip the hardware store and I had all I needed, namely a board that perfectly covered the hole like a lid and one significantly longer and wider. I attached the tiny wheels that had belonged to the drawers to the small board and made sure it glided along the railings like it had been designed to. Satisfied, I screwed and nailed the sliding lid to the much larger board which I built and attached the desk on top.

I did it so that desk would not sit directly on top of the lid. With the first board acting as a lock by sinking a few inches into the hole, it prevent from anyone casually leaning against the desk and have it slide out of place. The second board, much wider and longer than either the hole or the first board, prevented the desk from falling into the hole should someone heavy sit on it, possibly crushing me as well as reveal the compartment. As a security measure, I kept two screws on the railing to prevent the desk from sliding whenever I wasn't using it. I tested it a few times before I dismantled it and laid down the carpeting and rebuilt it. Once I knew everything I need to know, it was child's play to do it again with a coffee table. Truth be told, it took me longer to get the materials than building the second sliding lid.

While I had a secret bolt hole in mind when I designed them, it seemed they could function as a secret money cache. I unzipped the bag anf began neatly stacking them along the edge. While I worked, I tried to think of what I might say to Christine when she woke up. It might not prove wise to pursue a romantic relationship in the long run, but that didn't mean I would never see her again. We were friends before and we could be again.

"Well?" I looked up to see Tux batting the tip of an antennae of a portable radio. "Feel free to chime in."

Not much to my surprise, she ignored me for the little round tip of metal just out of reach. She tried to reach t by climbing on top of the radio, but leaped off when one of her paw turned the radio on and a loud blast of static came from the speakers. I laughed when she approached and began curiously tapping the radio, each hit making the static hiss differently when she got closer.

I had finished squirreling my nuts away for winter, so to speak, and slid the desk back into place before I set the radio right side up. "What the matter?" I asked while I straightened the antenna and lowered the volume. "Bored of those toy mice?"

"Rrow!" Tux answered and hopped onto the desk.

"You know, you never gave me answer." I scratched behind an ear while she pawed at the dials. "What do you think I should do? I know she turns into a dog, but you have to know something about them, right?"

Tux didn't make a sound, but she continue paw curiously at the dials and looked amazed that they could turn. To my amusement, she found the volume dial and jumped a foot when music began to play. I laughed and went to shut it off when I paused and realized i knew the song. It was last bit of an old Billy Joel song.

_Listen boy, it's good information_

_From a man who's made mistakes_

_Just a word or two that she gets from you_

_Could be the difference that it makes_

_She's a trusting soul, she's put her trust in you_

_But a girl like that won't tell you what you should do_

_Tell her about it, tell her everything you feel_

_Give her every reason to accept that you're for real_

_Tell her about it, tell her all your crazy dreams_

_Let her know you need her, let her know how much she means_

_Tell her about it_

_Tell her how you feel right now_

_Just tell her about it_

_The girl don't want to wait too long_

_You got to tell her about it_

_Tell her now and you won't go wrong_

_You got to tell her about it_

_Before it gets too late_

_You got to tell her about it_

"And that was Billy Joel's Tell Her About it." said the radio DJ once the song faded. "Don't beat around the bush guys. Valentine's Day only a few hours away. Do what the man says and tell her about it!"

"Hmm." I smiled at Tux. "Anyone ever tell you that you have a way with words?"

"Rrow?"

"Case and point."


	3. Catching Up

Someone had to invent coffee for vampires.

I used to think that when the sun had set I'd wake up and be fully aware, but I learned early on it was not the case. It was like it was humans. Some could sleep through an earthquake while others shot through the ceiling at the sound of a pin dropping a mile away. When I was human I fell somewhere in the middle and it had carried over into my undead life. I'd wake up without too much effort, but I was, kind of ironic now I think about it, an undead zombie until I had coffee like most of the country. Perhaps, like science suggested, I was unknowingly addicted, but if I had been it vanished when I met HER.

I rose that night like any other. I sat up, noted the lack of enemies with sharped stakes groping around in the dark, and got out of my bed. While vampires don't need to shower per say, most of us enjoy the feeling hot water leaves us and feeling clean. I found it a good way to start the day so speak and so I crossed my room to the door.

"Rrow?"

I looked down and saw Tux staring up at me with huge eyes.

"Good morning to you too." I said.

"Rrow!" Tux began rubbing against my leg.

"Alright." I bent down to scratch behind her ear. "I'll fix something after my shower."

I turned the light on the hallway for Tux before I stepped in the bathroom. I flipped on the lights and ran the water hot as I undressed and tossed my clothes into a pile in the corner. I noted that either I had to make a trip to the laundry room downstairs or I would have to buy fresh clothes in a day or two. I made sure to turn on the radio that sat next to the sink before I stepped in. It was a habit I developed when I was first turned and not cared how long I took or how much hot water I was using. Until Apple released the iPod in about a decade, I couldn't control when or what song played. Luckily, Z100 had settled on one of Micheal Jackson's singles from a few months before and I hummed along as I tapped my foot.

_I took my baby on a Saturday bang_

_Boy is that girl with you_

_Yes we're one and the same_

_Now I believe in miracles_

_And a miracle has happened tonight_

_But, if you're thinkin' about my baby_

_It don't matter if you're black or white_

I tended to linger in the shower. Regina had always taken pride in her appearance and that was evident in the products she put in her hair. She had conveniently forgotten to take them with her so I decided make use of them. So I used some wonderfully scented shampoo that I followed with something called creme rincer which was french for cream rinse. I finished with a conditioner that, according to label, gave my hair that professional salon look with none of the hassle. For the rest of my body, I just used a bar of Irish Spring soap which according to Doyle was a misnomer.

I shut off the flow of water and stepped out. I must have been in longer than I realized or the water had been much hotter than it felt because bathroom was resembling a sauna with all the steam. I grabbed a towel from the rack it hung on and quickly dried myself. I then threw it around my neck and walked out to let the bathroom air out. I still felt a bit out of it, but hopefully the shock of hot to cold would help. That was of course if the heat was off to the apartment. Since I wasn't sensitive to temperature as I had been, I hardly touched the dial. It could be set at seventy degrees or below freezing for a year and I wouldn't notice until some human pointed it out.

I was sluggishly pondering if the scent of coffee would be enough when I heard a voice. "Dominick . . . . . . ?"

I slowly turned and saw Christine standing in a lavender nightgown.

That was when the previous night's events rushed back to me. Mae had delivered part of my payment for helping Matthew's problem with the Weres which had led to me needing some air because I wasn't sure how Mae and Matthew would handle HER leaving me on my own. I had entered the first movie theater I came across and enjoyed part of what would eventually be called the Disney Renaissance. Then it was on my way back that I stopped and killed a group of men that I think were part of gang called the Latin Kings. They had cornered Christine and since I was unaware of her Shifter status I had thought she was defenseless. It wasn't until I had miscounted how many I had killed and Christine had been shot while in her Shifter form, a Doberman Pincher with undocked ears and tail, whom I thought was just a stray that been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Uh, okay?" I said unable to come up with something more coherent. "Not sure, but really really hoping . . ." I pointed downwards. "Pants?"

She shook her head then quickly looked away.

"Give me second." I took the towel from around my neck and arranged it around my waist. "There!"

She looked and appeared unsure. "Um, it's not much."

"Heh!" I couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm so glad you didn't say that first."

To my surprise, she threw herself at me and I was wrapped in a tight embrace. I wasn't taller than her so her hair tickled when buried face in my shoulder. I smiled and wrapped my arms around her. She felt so warm against my bare skin it was impossible to tell if she running a fever or not, but I didn't care. Finally, some luck. For that brief little moment, I had everything I had ever wanted. Not only was i free, both from my human and undead woe, but I finally had my friend back. If I was honest, I was expecting confusing mixed with fear at best. Who knew it could feel this good to be wrong?

"I knew it!" I heard Christine sniffle and I smiled. I knew just how to stop her from crying. "You'd never be so stupid!"

"Hey, hey." I gently rubbed her back to sooth her. "What's wrong? I haven't seen you cry since we saw Bambi freshman year."

"Shut up!" She snapped halfheartedly while sniffling in my shoulder.

"Then next week when we saw The Little Mermaid." I chuckled. "When Ursula stole Eric from Ari — "

Naturally, I got the response I wanted and she shoved me away. If there was one thing I could never forget about her was that she hated when someone insinuated she was one of girly girls that cried at the drop of a hat and wore a lot of pink dresses. Only a chosen few could and live to tell the tale and fortunately I was one of them. Unfortunately, she followed up the shove with a hard slap. I saw it coming, but I was so surprised that it never occurred to me to duck.

"Oookay." I said as I recovered. "Nice to see you haven't changed."

I heard her hand cut through the air and I instinctively caught it. I tried not to smile, but the look of her surprise on her face was priceless. I didn't have much time to enjoy it though. She snarled and drew her arm back to slap with her free hand which I caught just easily as the first. I held onto wrists, but I made sure not to grip her too tightly so not to hurt her.

"Let go!" She spat while tried to free herself. "Let go of me!"

"Calm down." I said. "You might tear open — "

"Ah!" Christine suddenly jumped which I took to mean her wound hadn't closed up completely and she had overexerted herself.

I instantly let go and realized it was a mistake. Her lips twitched into a smile and drew her arm back again. This time I let her actually throw the punch, but this time I grabbed her wrist and turned her around so that her back was against me. Without letting go, I pinned her arm across her stomach. Before she could use it, I held down her free arm against her side. Naturally she struggled to get free, but either she was weak from being shot or vampires were stronger than even Shifters because I found it surprisingly easy to hold her against me.

I also could feel her anger roll off of her in waves like a roaring inferno. I don't mean the kind where people made it blatantly obvious. I could literally feel her anger almost as if it was my own, but it was not my own. It was like there were two people, me and her inside my head. That was when I recalled what Kim had told me about the effects of drinking vampire blood and the bonding it did. I would be able to sense Christine's general mood, which was completely unnecessary, and know when she close which was also unnecessary.

"Now are going to calm down and listen to me?" I asked.

"Fuck you!" She spat.

"If you calm down and play you're cards right, maybe." I said. "We used to be friends. Remember?"

"What friend pretends to be dead for two years?!" She demanded.

"Isn't it obvious?" I was confused. She had to know vampires couldn't stay in their home area. "I had to disappear."

"Why?!" She continued to struggle, albeit with less enthusiasm, and I was still confounded how she didn't know. Vampires couldn't so secretive that even other Supernaturals were unaware of even the most basic rules. "You owed money to Jimmy the Rat?"

"You remember how i was back then?" I said. "I was too scared to take a shower after I saw Jaws let alone get involved with a loan shark."

"Then why?" She tried suddenly with burst of desperate strength, but it did nothing and she relaxed. I guessed she had tired herself out "How the hell did you get so strong?"

"Take a deep breath."

"God dammit, I'm calm." She snapped.

"Through you're nose." I told her. I realized that she had failed to notice the faint glow my skin had along its pale complexion. No doubt she was too shocked at very sight of me she had missed a few key details. "What do you smell?"

"Just soap and way too many hair products." She responded and sounding confused. "Along with hot water."

"Try again." I encouraged and inched my arm, still holding her tight, higher so she could get a good whiff as they say. "Unless Shifters don't have as strong a nose as Weres."

"How did . . ." Christine turned her head as far as she could and glanced out of the corner of her eye for a moment before she bent down sniffed my arm. "Oh . . . god."

That was when I let her go. I sensed something wrong from our slight blood connection. Rather than scream or try to hit me again, Christine dashed right into the bathroom. Hardly a second later I heard her heave into the toilet. I went in to see if she was alright, but I think Henry must have found out where I lived because the door slammed shut. That or, something far more likely, Christine shut the door herself.

"Rrow?" I looked to see Tux staring up at me curiously.

"You're guess is as good as mine." I said. "Though ten bucks says it's the shock."

"Rrow!" She began rubbing against my leg.

"Nice to see you care so much about others. I'll feed you in a minute." I walked to the door and knocked. "Christine? Are you alright?"

"Get away!" She shouted.

"What's wrong?" I tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn't move. "Why did you lock the door?"

"Stay out!" She sounded scared and I could feel her fear. Then I heard a loud snap. "I have a stake!"

"No you don't." I said.

"Yes, I do!"

"You have a broken plastic towel rack." I told her.

"How . . . did . . ." She hesitated. "How did you know?"

"There's nothing made of wood in the entire bathroom." I said through the door. "In fact the only place where you could find something to make a stake would be the kitchen where I keep wooden spoons and take-out chopsticks." I went on. "Now you think you could find a chair to smash, but only chairs in the entire apartment are recliners."

I waited for a response, but she said nothing. I sniffed the air and caught the unmistakable scent of fear. Normally it was as alluring as the scent of fresh blood, but it made me uneasy. She no reason to be afraid. If I wanted to hurt her then it would been easy to do it when I first brought her into the apartment. I'll admit I wasn't expecting a marching parade, but did she really think I wouldn't remember our past together?

"So are you going to come out and talk to me?"

"So you can bite me? No thanks!"

"I already did."

"Bullshit!"

"Lift up the nightgown you're wearing." I told her.

"Nightgown?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "Opposite your doberman tattoo." I paused for a moment for to follow my instructions. "You were shot last night. I carried you here and I had to bite down and suck the bullet out. I used my blood to stop the bleeding and feed you my blood to save your life."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"_Wuh de ma_!" I muttered under my breath. "Why would I save you and then lie to you about it?"

"How do I know you didn't shoot me?"

"Brilliant!" I threw up my arms in frustration.

"Really?

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot." I growled. "If I had shot you then why would I bother treating you?"

"Maybe you — "

"Wanted to keep you alive so I could possibly torture you?" I demanded angrily. "Then wouldn't I have strapped you down in the bed and left you in your bloody clothes or naked and not risk you waking up in the middle of day and escaping?" I counted to five in my head. "Well? I'm waiting."

"I don't know!" She shouted.

"That's it!" I'd had it. I had helped her, more than most people would do and probably no vampire would for a shifter, only to have her insinuate I had something to with it. "Stay in there all night. Just make sure you lock the door when you leave. I'd rather not hunt down my stuff along with my cat because someone didn't care enough."

I stalked off to my room and slammed the door behind me. I quickly slipped into a pair of boxers and a red tanktop which I tucked into a pair of jeans. I threw on a shirt without really looking at it and tied my shoes in record time even for a vampire. Once dressed, I grabbed another set of clothes for Christine. Her clothes were either too bloody to wear without drawing attention or torn to shreds. She might very well refuse to wear them, but at least couldn't say i didn't offer. She could walk down Broadway naked for all I care.

I went to the bathroom door and knocked. "Are you going to come out?" I waited, but no response. "We both know you're in there. The least you could is talk to me. Am I right in assume that you're just going to stay in there until dawn?"

"Maybe." She said and she actually did a very convincing job of sounding defiant. "Why?"

"Do you have plan?" I asked. "Like catch a cab to Penn Station or something?"

"I'll figure something out." Christine sounded unsure, but she did an excellent job of hiding it in her voice. "Dawn's pretty far off."

"That's true." I agreed. "It's about a quarter to seven now. Sunrise is roughly twelve hours away give or take."

"Okay."

"So remind me. Your plan is to stay in there with a broken towel rack, and no clock now that I remember to know when the sun rises, for twelve hours?"

"Unless I think of something else." Christine laughed nervously. "Like I said, it's a work in progress."

"Well, half a day is plenty of time to think of something." I remarked calmly. "But can I point out something?"

"What?"

That was when I pushed the door down. Well, it was more of shove than a push. It was kind of like a quick jab with both hands, but it got the point across. The hinges couldn't hold the door in place and it came crashing down, splintering along the edges and sending little shards the size of toothpicks into the air. Rather than a blood curdling scream out of a Wes Craven movie, Christine made a surprised yelp.

"That!" I said and walked over the door toward her.. "You forgot even a plain human could do that."

"Stay back!" She hefted what I had guessed, a broken towel rack.

"Here." I threw the clothes at her feet once I was about two feet away from she was flushed against the wall and turned to leave.

It wasn't until reached the door that Christine spoke. "Is that it?"

"Sorry." I said. "But women's apparel is the next floor."

"No. It's not that, but . . ." She sounded calm, but unsure. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I smiled politely and left.

I walked down the small corridor to the kitchen with Tux doing her best to trip me as she weaved between my legs. Apparently it was only a warning since I made it to the kitchen without incident, but Tux was clear in that I was risking a great deal by making her wait for her meal. I briefly wondered if I should make something for Christine. No doubt she would be quite hungry since I assumed she had slept most of the previous night and all of today. I settled to be safer than sorry and kill two birds with one stone.

I kept small containers of fish stock in the refrigerator if I ever decided t make a sauce for Tux's food or a soup. So I removed two containers as well as the left over fillets I used for Tux's dinner last night along with a handful of green beans, a couple stalks of celery, and a carrot. After slicing and dicing the celery, fillets, and carrots, I set a large pot on the stove and melted a bit of butter. I quickly tossed everything in the butter before pouring the stock over it. I finished by adding a handful of rice before sprinkling a bit of salt and pepper and left it to cook.

"Rrrow?"

I turned to see Tux sitting on the counter sampling the air eagerly.

"I know." I smiled. "I'm sorry, but it's not like we have guest everyday."

"Rrrow!"

"Now that's the conundrum." I teased. "Would you be eating human food or would she be eating cat food?"

I left the kitchen, making sure the soup was at a low simmer, and entered the living room. While I had yet to finish Rocky Horror Picture Show, I decided against tp get some work done first and opened the violin case that was resting against the recliner. I had picked it up at a pawn shop off of West 47th Street in Midtown. It was an impulse purchase along with a few vintage records and the owner had thrown in an old case and a sheet of music. For the past few weeks I always made sure to play for an hour a night. If I did miss a night, like the previous, I tried to play for two hours the next which meant tonight.

It was fortunate that I could already play both the piano and guitar fairly well. Fingering the neck of violin was more or less the same as guitar only smaller. The bow did provide a bit of learning curve when it came to learning to certain notes and chords, but the sheet music the owner had provided had a cheat sheet on the back. It had a very straight forward list of all the notes and their location on the string for first and third position. After that it was simple to play one note at a time and get a feel for each. It had taken me almost a month, but now I could say I was able to play the violin. Granted it was just the one, relatively simple, Irish folk song, but it was start. Perhaps in time I might even compose my own.

I paused after a few minutes to light a cigarette. Normally I would do what I usually did and order take-out and feed on whomever delivered, but I would have to make do. Knowing my luck Christine would use the opportunity to sink a stake in my back. Perhaps I should not have told her where and how she could make a stake in the apartment. As I puffed, I considered I had two options.

I could leave the apartment and seduce some girl in a bar. I recalled I haven't gone to bed with a women since my last night with HER. While I had gone twenty-one long years without the touch of a woman, I had no intention of doing that again. At least not willingly. My other option, provided Christine did not leave until sunrise, would be to forgo feeding tonight and drain a human tomorrow. I had more or less gotten over my hesitation to take a life, but I'd like to avoid unwanted attention. I'd probably head over to East Harlem or Chelsea and find some no name pimp or dealer.

I lost interest with my violin and laid on the couch. I looked up at the ceiling absentminded. I'm not sure how or why, but I began thinking how plain the ceiling was. It had never bothered me before, but I found it impossible to banish it from my mind. Instead, I gave in and my mind's eye toyed with possible images. It seemed sad and pathetic to paint it to look like a sunlit sky and it was redundant to paint it black and carefully arrange the constellations. It was too childish, even for me, to paint the Justice League from DC Comics on one side about to clash with Marvel's Avengers on the other. Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel popped into my head and the thought of looking up at_ Il Divino's _masterpiece would be an excellent change. Whatever I decided on meant two things. First, a large amount of time. Second, which was probably more important than the first, I'd have to learn to paint.

"Rrow?" Tux hopped onto my chest and her head encased my entire view.

"Well, when it comes to ceilings," I said. "He is famous for it."

"Rrow!"

"No." I scratched behind her ear. "But I have all the time to learn."

Tux suddenly whipped her head to the sound of metal clicking on metal. I figured the soup had begun to boil and the steam was trying to force the lid from the pot. I laughed as she sniffed the air curiously. She really had a one track mind when it came to food. Then again, I suppose it was the same for me in a way.

"Alright." I sat up and she hopped into my lap. "It should be — "

Christine was frozen like a deer in the headlights. I suspect that while I contemplated how I might paint the ceiling, probably retreating into myself like vampires did, she must have crept into the kitchen. She had probably figured she'd take a risk and try to cut through the kitchen to the door giving me a wide berth and holding her breath so I wouldn't hear her.

I tried not to laugh when she snatched the wooden spoon that I had used to stir the soup from the counter. I did manage a smile when she held it like a stake though. Now that my mind wasn't otherwise occupied, I could head her breathing and just faintest hint of a heartbeat which meant hers was racing.

Tux didn't seem to mind or care and leaped from the couch to the counter across from the stove. Christine just stared at her in confusion. I watched and resisted the urge to laugh while Tux switched her gaze between Christine and the soup. It was her way of telling Christine to serve her. It seemed Tux had been more than patient and hoped this new creature would be honored to cater to her every wish and whim.

"Rrrow!"

"Uh?" Christine switched her gaze to me for a moment then back at Tux. "Hello?"

"Rrow!"

"There goes one theory." I said. "She's hungry." I motioned behind her. "Her bowl is next to that big pot by the ladle. Just turn off the stove and fill her bowl. She'll take care of the rest."

To my surprise, Christine did exactly what I said. The entire time she always made sure to keep an eye on me. I sensed she had calmed down significantly, but she was still weary of me. Her emotions felt to be in a bit of turmoil. It only made sense. After all, she had woken up in a strange place after nearly dying from a gunshot wound. Even if she couldn't fully remember there was discovering she was alone in a vampire's lair. Then add to the fact that said lair, which sounds both cliche and pleasing at the same time, belonged to a vampire she had known well when he was human and had believed to be dead for the past two years.

I noticed she had changed into the clothes I gave her. I had grabbed the clothes in anger without looking or caring. Now I saw she was wearing my old Flash shirt. It was just a red shirt, a bit faded from years of use, with a a bright yellow lightning bolt over a white circle on the chest. It would become a well known symbol thanks to when The Big Bang Theory came to television in about fifteen years, but 2007 was a bit of a wait.

"Thanks." I said. "She can be annoying when she wants to be."

"Sure." She forced a smile.

"Can we talk?"

"About?"

"Well, you just found out a close is friend isn't dead. At least not the way you thought. I just found that a close friend could turn into a Doberman while I knew her." I shrugged. "Or we could we talk about Bill Clinton's foreign policy. Personally, I don't think we should give Russia sixty billion dollars to help them rebuild. I mean where is that money coming from?" I asked absentminded. "Even if he raises taxes for those making $200,000 a year to 35 or 36 percent, I don't think it'll be enough."

"Okay, I get it." She rolled her eyes at me. It was a start. "Nice to see that smart mouth didn't die with you." Then she covered her mouth and gasped. "Oh my god, Dominick, I am so sorry. I didn't mean it."

I laughed. The last time I saw her without her usual bravado and her playful attitude was during one of our rare visits to Manhattan. I had been tagging along while she visited possible colleges when she bumped into a one William Martin Joel or known better as Billy Joel. Unfortunately Billy was had just purchased a New York City staple from a cart on the corner, a hotdog with mustard and sauerkraut. Long story short, Billy ended up smelling like sauerkraut for a portion of the day and a large mustard stain on his shirt. Both Billy and I tried not to laugh as apologized at the speed of light while trying to wipe his shirt clean.

As for her remark about my smart mouth that was just what Christine brought out in me. Ask any women, or man for that matter, what they want in a person. Chances are funny is going to come up. I noticed and tried to bank on it, but I didn't get too far. Truth be told, after being insulted and ridiculed all throughout school one tends to grow a thick hide and come up with a few yourself. While I never had the courage to actually retaliate, due to the fact I could not physically back up my words, I never hesitated to use them when Christine was around and metaphorically score some points.

"Relax." I assured her. "Just sit down." I winked. "I promise I won't bite."

"That's not funny." She frowned.

"Noted." I motioned to the armchair across from me. "Now if you please."

While she was clearly nervous, she sat down. I sensed that she didn't view me as an immediate threat, but I was still a potential one which I suppose was true as far as vampire/shifters meetings went.

"So that do I call you?" I asked playfully. "Now that I know you and Chrissy are the same person and all."

"How did you know that?" She asked.

"I've had some time to think and realized that for reason or another, I've never seen you in the same place." I began counting on a hand. "The first time I met Chrissy, your dad said she was your dog and how you two were practically inseparable. Then there was the time you had the flu and I came over to drop off homework. Chrissy wasn't in the yard or in the house. I should have noticed that time you invited over for a barbeque. Your parents were there and an uncle, but not a single hair of Chrissy" I paused. "Need I go on?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'm Chrissy. I take after my mom. Dad's a Were, but she's a Shifter." She paused. "Well, she's more of a Weredog than a shifter."

"Meaning she can only change into a dog." I concluded. "While you can choose any animal you want."

"How did . . . how the hell . . ." Christine just stared. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't." I told her. "You just told me." I sat up and leaned forward. "You corrected yourself saying your mother was a Weredog instead of a Shifter like you. Since Werewolves can only turn into wolves, I assumed that a Weredog could only turn into a dog." I motioned to her. "Now you didn't correct me when I called you Shifter because that's how you see yourself. Based on all that, and the fact Shifter is short for shapeshifter, I guessed you have a bit more versatility." She just kept staring. "It was just a guess."

"And, uh, when did you put that together?"

"I'm not sure." I pause to think for a moment. "About the time you said the word Weredog?"

"Okay." She tactfully changed the subject. "So how did . . ." She waved up and down at me. " . . . this happen?"

"Do you remember the last time you saw me?" I asked. "A girl invited to party in the city."

"Yeah?" Then her eyes went wide for moment and I knew the other shoe had dropped. "Oh my god."

"Yeah." I picked up my cigarette case and lit one. "Imagine it from my end."

"I'd rather not."

"Me too." I puffed and relaxed as my hunger had subsided a bit. I held out the case. "Want one?"

"No thanks." She looked slightly confused. "Since when do you smoke?"

"Well, it's not like I have to worry about cancer." I moved an ashtray on the table closer to me. "Plus, I'm hungry."

"Hungry?" She repeated and her heart could practically be heard down the block. "Like right now?"

"Yes, right now." I tried not sound insulted. "But that's what these are for."

"How?"

"See how they're slightly pink." I handed her one to examine. "I drip blood into the tobacco and let them dry overnight." I blew out puff of pink smoke. "Actually, I lay them on windowsill and let them dry in the sun while I sleep. I still have to feed, but they help curb my appetite."

"You always were creative." She shook her head in disbelief. "My god, Dominick. How is this even happening?" She motioned to the whole apartment. "All this time instead of being killed in a drunk driving accident, you've been living it up barely train and cab ride away." She continued and I sensed she had to get it out or go insane. "I went to your funeral for god's sake. Me, Eric, James, Mike, Juan, Rob, Matt. We all couldn't believe you were gone." Then demanded. "Forget about your friends. What about your family? Your mother, brother, and your fath — "

"Hey!" I snapped before she could finish that particular "F" word. "Don't. You. Fucking. Dare!"

"Do you have any idea what you put them — "

"It wasn't my choice!" I shot up to my feet. "I didn't go around asking for this to happen." At least not the way things turned out. "You have no idea how terrifying it is to look your murderer in the face as she literally sucks the life out of you only to wake up in a coffin three nights later to find out that your life is over! No more food, no more sun, and the knowledge that if I even went within a hundred feet of a human I'd kill them because I couldn't control myself." I felt my fangs run out. "All I wanted to do was go back home. Instead I spent the next year unable to walk out the front door thanks to a few words!"

"I-I-I'm s-sorry." Christine backed up into the arm chair at the sight of my fangs, but I was too angry. Did she really think that I jumped at the very idea of being forced to end innocent lives that I causally tossed aside my previous life? "I d-didn't know."

"And you wanna know what really fucked up part was?!" I growled. "Little by little, without me noticing until it was too late, I began to forgive her. Then need her. Like a pathetic little puppy, I couldn't stand it when she left and a few hours felt like days. No matter what I did to distract myself — read, watch television, play the piano — I'd be lucky if I could go fifteen minutes without glancing at the door because I thought I had heard her voice."

Neither of said a word for a bit. I was reeling back my anger. I knew it it wasn't her fault, but dammit for the good it did either of us. Christine was recovering from both my outburst and trying to imagine what I went through. I could feel the swelling mass of emotions. Shame for accusing of abandoning my family and loved ones. Anger and hatred for the one that caused it along with a slight desire for revenge. Then there was the fear at the very base of it. Try as she might, she couldn't shake the instinct she was in the presence of predator. If vampire were in tune with their instincts then Shifters and Weres were probably as well.

"W-w-where?" She said finally while I sank back into my chair.

"What do you mean where?" I was caught off guard, but I motioned to HER room. "In there. The room where you woke up."

"No," She said. "I mean where is she?" She hesitated for a moment as if to see I was going to attack before went on. "I don't much about vampires. Dad says there haven't been a lot vampires on Long Island for the last hundred years and even then you apparently don't share a lot of information"

"Your point?"

"Isn't the vampire that turns a human have to stick around for a while?" She asked. "To teach 'em and stuff?"

"And you think she's not going to like that not only I rescued a shifter, but someone from my human life." I paused to choose how much exactly I wanted to tell her. "If you're scared she'll hurt you then you can relax. She's not here."

"But she's coming back?"

"Eventually." I said. "But not anytime soon."

"When?"

"Not sure." I admitted. "But not tonight."

"So you have the apartment to yourself?" She made a nervous smile.

"Yes, but I had to promise not throw a giant party." I smiled gently. "And I'm not suppose to have any girls over. On the other hand, she did me plenty for pizza."

"Oh my god, that reminds me." She looked around the room. "Can I use your phone?"

"What for?"

"I have to call my boss."

"I know this New York and people are shot everyday, but I think he'll understand that you need some time to recover." I reached for another cigarette. Christine must have had more of blood than I thought. "You might just want to tell them you ate some bad chicken. I'm not an expert on gunshot wounds, but yours won't look fresh."

"That and there won't be a record." She added. "Hospitals have to report gunshot wounds to the police. Though it wouldn't be the first time some paperwork disappeared."

"So you have people in place at the hospitals and the police." I concluded. "It makes sense once you think about it. Shifters and Weres have bad luck everyone else."

"How do you keep doing that?!" She demanded, but I sensed she was more amazed than angry. "What's with the Sherlock shtick?"

"Elementary, my dear Christine!" I teased as I slipped into a British accent. "I know your father was an officer when you were a child. Since the general public is unaware of the existence of Weres and Shifters and your father couldn't have been the first and only Were to become one, I can deduce that a system was set in place for that exact reason. Now you can't be the first Shifter to become a doctor of some sort so something similar must have occurred in the hospitals." I made a small dramatic bow and dropped the accent. "As for the whole Sherlock bit, I can't really explain it. Things just line up for me in way that makes sense in my head." I shrugged. "I had no idea I was even remotely right until now."

"Um, okay." Christine looked like she didn't know what to make of what I said. "So can I use your phone?"

"Sure." I pointed to the kitchen. "It's on the wall over there."

She got up to use the phone and began to think. Part me of wondered if I should tell her that even among vampires I wasn't normal. She had already caught on, if only an inkling, that I was more intelligent than she remembered. While she might that chalk up to not spending time together in two years for now, I would either be forced to tell her or she would figure it out herself. I briefly considered why it would matter in the slightest to me whether or not if she knew. It wasn't like I could read her mind or see through her clothes with X-ray vision.

My thoughts were interrupted by Christine and whomever was on the other end, presumably her boss. I know it was rude to eavesdrop, but that was the curse of vampire hearing. You wouldn't believe the stock secrets I heard whenever I hailed a cab on Wall Street being yelled into cellphones in countless languages.

"I'm sorry, ." Christine said. "But I lost my pager."

"And your cellphone?" said a gruff male voice, Dr. Laurie I assumed.

"That too."

"Have you tried your boy toy's bedroom?" The good doctor asked.

"What?!"

"Two reasons why you wouldn't show up to work without calling." Dr. Laurie explained. "Too much booze or too much sex. Since you don't sound hungover that pretty much narrows it down."

"I — "

"Just get over here."

"Alright."

"And pick up some coffee." I heard the sound of papers being ruffled. "It's going to be long night and you're playing catch up."

"Yessir!"

"The Human Resources Department must have field day with that guy." I said once Christine hung up and sat down. "If that's how he speaks to the nurses."

"That's how he is." She sighed before she scowled at me. "And what are you doing listening in?"

"Couldn't help it." I pointed to me ear. "Sensitive hearing, remember?"

"Oh right." She stood slowly. "Laurie's an ass, but he's harmless."

"Still, I never thought I'd live to see the day you let someone speak to you like that." I smiled. "Although, I suppose I didn't."

"Funny." She said dryly.

"I try." I responded. "Don't tell me your still planning on going back to work after being shot."

"It's not work exactly." She put a hand over her hip. "He doesn't pay me. I'm his apprentice."

"This isn't the Middle Ages." I frowned. "Doctors, or anyone really, don't have apprenticeships anymore."

"Officially, I'm a hospital secretary." She explained. "But unofficially, I'm his apprentice. I follow him and his team around, participate in differential diagnoses, get some real world experience."

"And get the coffee and doughnuts."

"Yeah, but it's a huge honor." She offered. "It's like playing college baseball and then Babe Ruth calls you up out of the blue to be his bat boy during the World Series."

"I think I get it." I said. "Just replace Baberuth with Batman, bat boy with Robin, and World Series with The Justice League." Then I remembered something. "Oh, and playing college baseball with mall cop.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "The point is it's a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn from one of the best."

"And are you sure you'll be fine?" I asked. "You were just shot hardly twenty-four hours ago. My blood might have saved your life, but I'm hardly two years old. I've been shot before and it took me a bit to recover."

"You were shot?!"

"Long story." I said. "Short version, yes, but I had blood to speed things up. You can't exactly do that."

"I'll be fine." She insisted.

"Which hospital?"

"Bellevue."

"Hold that thought." I got from the chair and went to the phone. "I need to check something."

I reached the phone and dialed Barnabe's number. There was something I needed and Barnabe seemed like the best to ask. It rang three times and then the answering machine picked up. I checked my watch and saw it would be strange for a normal tailor shop to be open, but I couldn't be the only nocturnal client of Barnabe that might need to reach him.

"Gregoire's." said Barnabe via the answering machine. "While I or my skilled staff would love to help you look your very best, we are sadly unavailable. Either leave message or please try again later." Then came the beep for me to leave a message.

"_Barnabe, j'appelle pour vous remercier pour votre récent chef-d'œuvre. Nos superviseurs ont adoré_." I said in french in case Christine overheard. I might not have a problem knowing where I lived, but Barnabe might. I also couldn't risk anyone listening to the message. Barnabe would know the sound of my voice. "_Je voulais aussi poser —"_

"_Vous faites un bon nom pour vous-même, Ductor_." said Barnabe teasingly. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I was wondering if you knew any dry cleaners." I continued in french.

"Dry cleaners?" He repeated. "What have you done now? You've hardly had the coat for more than a few months now."

"Nothing that warrants a new one." I said smoothly. "I just need a place that stays open a bit later than normal and knows how to get tomato stains out."

"Tomato stains?" He asked suspiciously.

"I was in the mood for Italian last night." I explained. "And some stray _ragu_ got on my coat, if you understand what I mean."

"I understand." Barnabe chuckled lightly. "It happens to the best of us, but do be careful in the future."

"If you know any near Bellevue, I'd appreciate it."

"May I ask why?"

"Sally the coroner and I have plans for tonight." I told him. "I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, so to speak."

"Very well." Barnabe agreed. "I just so happen to know one that caters to our needs."

"Merci." I said once Barnabe gave me the information I needed. "I'll tell them you recommended them."

"That should be enough for them not to act carelessly." Barnabe offered. "But if you wish to be safe, I suggest you use your new moniker. It carries great weight."

"I'll consider it. Goodbye and thank you, Barnabe."

"_Jusqu'à la prochaine fois, mon ami_." Barnabe said and we hung up.

I returned to the living room and picked up the blood stained coat I used to hide and carry Christine to the apartment.

"There's an old leather jacket in the last room at the end of the hall. It was snowing last night and it still might be cold outside." I told her. "While you're there, there's an old black sweatshirt in the bottom drawer of the dresser. I'd appreciate it while I refill Tux's bowl and grab my keys."

"What are you talking about?" Christine asked.

"I'm coming with you."


	4. Promising Possibilities

"Tall half skinny two percent extra hot!" said in barista as he set what looked an ordinary small coffee on the counter in front a blond woman.

After Christine and I had donned our coats. We hailed a cab and suffered through higher than usual traffic. With it being Valentine's day, I was wondering how Paris was doing as far as traffic. If we were crawling along bumper to bumper with each and every of the city's countless restaurants filled to capacity, the City of Love had to be suffering tenfold spike. We did manage to find a coffee shop only a few blocks away from Bellevue on east twenty-third street between Park and Madison Avenue that didn't have line wrapped around the block.

It was standard as far as coffee shops went I suppose, if you ignored the red and pink hearts everywhere. It was simply called Soprano's. It had a long counter with a few registers at the very end near the back of the shop. Most of the counter was taken up by a display case to show off an impressive collection of pastries, cookies, cakes, and the ever famous New York bagel. I tried not stare at them too long and resisted the urge to lick my lips. I had to be the only vampire in the world that still found human food appetizing.

On the other side, separated by indoor plantbox, were dozens of small round table and chairs. They were, of course, all occupied by couples celebrating Valentine's Day. It was a smorgasbord of flirting and laughter mixed with the occasional sigh of boredom. Not to mention the palaple scent of lust blending perfectly, somehow to my nose, with coffee and perfume. It was then that I realized that it hadn't fed in about two and half nights and it had been roughly two and half months since I had sex. Like the pastries behind the glass, I tried not to stare too long and not lick my lips.

"And a quattro scissione shot latee with whip!" said the barista and set another cup of coffee down only this one had whipped cream.

"These coffees." I said to distract myself.

"What do you mean?" Christine asked.

"Driving a car is less complicated." I said.

"Some would say you're wrong."

"Right pedal go and left pedal stop." I looked at her. "What's so hard about that?"

"Even if you were right." She smirked. "You don't need a license to order coffee."

"Good thing." I remarked. "Otherwise it would take you three times." I looked up at the menu and noticed that a good majority of the menu wasn't english. "Though considering you failed Italian freshman year — Oof!"

"Alright, I get it." Christine elbowed me and tried to hide a smile. "Sometime I wonder if I should done what you did and took Latin instead."

"It wouldn't have worked out for you." I told her.

"And why is that?" She folded her arms and did a good job of pretending to look offended.

"I took Latin to improve my Spanish and Italian." I explained. "They're both just latin slang really."

"But you are Spanish and Italian." Christine reminded me. "I think you told me your — "

"We only spoke English in the house." I cut her off before she could mention my mother or anyone else from my family. "I taught myself for the most part."

It was mostly true. I never told anyone, except HER, that my grasp of Italian, or Sicilian if I was being honest, was mediocre since I hardly ever saw my mother's parents. While no one ever told me directly, I figured out eventually that they never really approved of my father and it was only the fact that he gotten my mother pregnant with me that they allowed him to marry her.

Truth be told, I didn't remember much about them other than I could hardly understand a word they said at first. I could count the times, the ones that I could recall, I saw them on two hands. At least I could say they were all pleasant and normal. My grandmother, whom I called nonie, would let me help in the kitchen which why I think my love for the culinary arts began. My grandfather, whom liked to be called nonnino, sat me in his lap and we would watch soccer, or calcio as he called it, and would translate every now and then.

I tried to recall why exactly I began see them less and less. There had been a reason for it. I knew there was. They didn't just stop visiting. For some reason, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember exactly how or why, but I did recall feeling confused and angry. It was exactly the same when those, for the lack of a better word, memories came to me in the moments before I fell asleep only these were solely emotion.

"Hey!" I felt someone shove me from behind. "Can't ya see the line movin'?"

I really need to keep that check. It was becoming difficult to know when I retreated into myself. Perhaps it was a side effect of my mental gift or, just as likely, it was something else SHE failed to teach me to control. A third option came to me and it was one I'd rather be wrong about. SHE had explained that over time vampires grew stronger and faster, but the difference between a one year old and five year old was hardly noticeable even under careful observation. SHE also mention that sometimes it took time for newborn, like me, to reach the normal level. From there, it would be a steady crawl that matched the rest of race. Based on that, I supposed that my gift grew along with me. I just hoped it had and reached its limit soon.

"Whadda ya deaf?!" demanded voice. "Hey!"

This time my hand instinctively shot out and seized a thick wrist. In the time it took to blink, I turned to see a Yuppie or at least he was dressed as one. His nails were meticulously clean and manicured. On his wrist, which was what I was really gripping, an expensive looking gold Rolex watch which I had seen advertisements for in yesterday's New York Times. It could be a counterfeit, but this person probably thought he wouldn't be caught dead buying even a pair of sunglasses off the street. He wore a navy blue suit and polished black loafers. His hair pristinly combed and styled. He was handsome enough and very clean shaven.

Now normally, I would have begun to slowly squeeze until he was on his knees, but normally hunger wouldn't rear it's ugly head. SHE had said that the difference between vampire and human minds was that vampire are much more in tun with their natural instincts, but wasn't to say humans had lost those instincts. The way his eyes went wide and rapid hum of his pulse I felt through the watch combined with the quick deep breath he took when we locked eyes, I might as well be a tiger and he an antelope.

"Dominick?" I heard Christine just ahead of me. "Problem?"

"No." I said after a moment and said to the Yuppie. "Just a misunderstanding, right?"

"Uh, yeah." he said as he took back his hand. "Thought you were someone else. Sorry."

"Mhm." I turned my back and returned to Christine's side.

"What was that about?" She demanded in a low whisper.

"You know how you were toying with getting a bagel or not when we walked in?"

"Yeah."

"Imagine that bagel's relief when you said you were in the mood for scone."

"My god!" She whipped her head back to see. She apparently didn't like the effect I had on him. "He looks like he's gonna piss his pants." She turned to me. "You're not gonna bite him are you?"

"Obviously not." I said. "We surrounded by witnesses for one thing."

"And if there wasn't?" She demanded.

"Then I would have without a second thought." I told her. "I haven't eaten for almost two nights now. Plus, he was being an ass."

"So just because he annoyed you he deserves to die?"

"I wouldn't kill him." I assured. "He's too important."

"Important?"

"Look at him, expensive suit and shoes with hair and nails to match." I shrugged. "The watch he's wearing is a Rolex. He probably works on Wall Street or a big law firm. He goes missing and his picture will on morning news tomorrow." Then I recalled something. "A heroin dealer or mugger, on the hand, won't exactly cause too much of a stir."

I licked my lips at the thought of either catching the subway to Hell's Kitchen or East Harlem. According to Monday issue of The Times, they were prime locations if you were looking to score. Whether you were looking for a prostitute or a dealer for drugs hardly made a difference. That was when I noticed the stare I was getting.

"What?" I asked

"I'm just having a hard time hearing this from you." She looked away. "I know it's not your fault, but even drug dealers and muggers deserve to live." Then shook her head like she wasn't confident in her words. "Maybe that's just dad's bull I've soaked in over the years."

"Well, if you consider I don't have to deal with lawyers and I guarantee that they stay off the streets with no chance of getting off on a technicality." I said jokingly. "All at zero cost to the taxpayer. If you ask me, I'm a bargain." Then I noticed she wasn't in the mood for jokes just this second, I added. "Though if it makes you feel better, I make an effort to stick with multiple murderers and pedophiles."

"What part of that is suppose to make me — "

She was cut off by the barista. I had only been paying half attention, but he seemed to be having trouble taking the orders of two young women ahead of us. Apparently it had degraded into charades and miming.

"Look, ladies." The barista sighed and slid a pad and pen in front of them. "Ya holding up the line. Just write down whatcha want."

I took a quick glance at them. One had plain brunette hair while the other was a platinum blond. They both looked to in their college years. They were attractive enough and thier make-up was perfect, but simple. Their clothes, their coats and boots really, seemed high-end for me. The had a voluptuous build. Her skin was cream-colored while her friend had more a feminine shape.

I was about to do what any real New Yorker would have done and simply ordered, but that was when the blond turned to brunette and asked her in another language. That gave me another problem because I understood every word. I could intervene, but Christine would ask questions. I threw caution to the wind and decided whatever got me to a feed sooner the better.

"_Que dit-il_?" asked the blond.

"_Je ne sais pas_." said the brunette. "_Je pense qu'il veut que nous écrivons quelque chose_."

"_Goo yang jong duh goo yang_!" I muttered to myself.

"What did you say?" Christine asked.

"Nothing." I stepped behind the two girls. "_Excusez-moi, mais pourriez-vous me souhaitez traduire_?"

That was when I received four sets of stares. One from each of the girl, one from the barista, and one from Christine.

"_Vous parlez français_?"

"_Qui_!" I held my hand out. "_Dites-moi ce que vous voulez et je vais l'écrire en anglais pour cet imbécile_."

Hardly three minutes later, they were holding two large cups filled with more sugar,syrups, and milk then coffee. The barista, along with those behind us, seemed grateful.

"Thanks a bunch for that, man." he said. "You've got no idea how much I owe you."

"Yeah," I said under my breath. "Who would have thought a large coffee would be so complicated."

"Excuse me?"

"Large black coffee." I snapped. "What's so hard about that?

"Do you mean a Vente?"

"No." I noticed the hunger was getting to me. Like a child, I tended to become irritable when I was hungry. "I mean a large!"

"Vente is large."

"No. Vente is twenty." I said like I was correcting a child.

"Dominick." Christine nudged me to stop talking. "It's not— "

"Large is large." I went on. "In fact, tall is large and Grande is Spanish for large. Vente is the only one that doesn't mean large. It's also the only one in Italian. Congratulations! You and this entire place is incoherent in three major languages with a significant Latin root!" I pulled a hundred dollar bill and slammed it on the counter which thankfully was not made of glass. "Now take this lady's order."

With that, I walked out and lit a cigarette. I just didn't trust myself. I gazed around. There was a couple of policemen buying coffee from food-cart parked on the corner at the end of the block. Opposite them on the adjacent corner was a middle aged black man carefully and quickly packing up dozens of sunglasses and hats. Truth be told, I thought he didn't have much to worry about. Despite it was technically illegal, most cops tend to overlook the droves of street vendors. It took him less than a minute to roll up his blanket, merchandise and all, and quickly disappear into a nearby alley.

I flicked the butt onto the ground.

That was when a thought, or instinct rather, popped into my head. His hands would be occupied so there was no chance of him drawing a weapon if he had one. He'd also be wary of an approach from behind, but not from above the fire escape only a few feet overhead solved that and there were no lights to cast a shadow. It would be child's play to climb and follow him by the rooftop. I wouldn't have to worry about the drop injuring me like a human would.

I looked up and down the block. The street was full with gridlocked cars and taxis, but their drivers were occupied shouting at the traffic and honking their horns. That meant plenty of cover, but no witnesses and a near impossible chance of anyone hearing a scream. The foot traffic was light, light considering the circumstances, and they were already occupied. I glanced behind me and saw Christine impatiently waiting for whatever she had ordered. I had a minute and a half to cross the street, ambush to street vendor, feed and glamor or feed and hide the body, and get back before Christine noticed I was gone.

I took a step just as the cigarette butt touched the ground.

"_Bonjour_!" called a voice.

I stumbled as I turned to see the two french girls from earlier. I steadied myself and fought to keep a straight face while we chatted. I tried several times to disengage, but they just didn't take the hint. Normally this would have been a most welcome chance. Instead of a random feed and glamor off the street, I had an opportunity for, what they would call, a one night ménage à trois as well as a feed. The problem was that Christine was with me. While we were not in a relationship, she wouldn't approve in the slightest. Ignoring the fact I was abandoning her for sex, she'd probably thought I might kill them.

We chatted for a bit and eventually I mentally canceled my dinner plans. The street vendor had been out of sight for too long and I could not track. Even if I could, I didn't have enough time to both feed and glamor/hide him. In the end they handed me a slip of paper with the name of their hotel and room number just as Christine exited the shop carrying two pastry boxes and two trays filled coffee cups.

"_A bientôt, chérie_!" called the blond as they walked down the street

"_Si votre petite amie vous permet sans laisse ce soir_." The brunette followed and they shared a laugh.

"What was that about?" Christine asked suspiciously, though I wasn't sure why.

"Oh, nothing really." I slipped the paper into a pocket and took a tray of coffee and a pastry box. "Just some harmless flirting."

"Speaking of flirting." She asked. "Where did you learn french?"

"Remember that I told you that I spent my first year stuck in my apartment?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

"Well four months of that year I listened to instructional tapes." I began walking towards Bellevue. "Come on."

"It took you four months to become fluent in french?" She asked sounding amazed.

"Only to speak it." I explained carefully. "I can't read or write and it took another two months to get the accent right."

It was true, partly. I never did bother learning written french, but I purposely left out how SHE had helped greatly with my accent and idioms if I required to pass myself as a native frenchman.

"Still," She said. "I took Italian through high school and I'm lucky I can still count to ten."

We continued walking and reached Bellevue after about five minutes. I followed Christine through the lobby. Security quickly gave me a visitor's pass and we rode the elevator and walked to a wing that sat right over the ER. Everything was a sea of white, beige, and gray with a couple of primary colors thrown polished tiled floor reeked of chemicals, faux pine scent, and ammonia. Sometimes a heightened sense of smell was more of a burden than a gift. I noticed this part was mostly offices and the like. There was also hardly anyone around. The occasional doctor in a white lab coat or nurse in scrubs passed, but they were clearly in a rush somewhere. Then I realized how late it was and most of the staff probably had gone home for the night. The hospital would probably be empty minus the patients and the ER staff.

"Here!" Christine stopped in front of a door.

I observed a door that had two very plain black plaques that appeared they were actually part of the door and couldn't be removed. The first simply read, The office of Aimé Laurie. MD. Under that one was a much larger plaque that read Head of Diagnostic Medicine, Residency in Pathology, Nephrology, infectious disease specialist.

"Hmm." I said. "That's strange."

"What is?"

"The other offices have the doctors' name on the side of the door with those little plaque holders that let slide the names in and out." I motioned to the door. "Why is his office different?"

"Well, he's got tenure here so he thinks he should have first pick of an office." Christine looked uncomfortable. "He kinda has a bit of an ego."

"And the story behind those?" I asked about the plaques

"They tried moving him, but he went an got the door handmade and installed here before the paperwork went trough." She shrugged. " From what I heard, the door is impossible to remove. Somehow it can still open, but it's impossible to carry out of the doorway like it's too big."

That was when the door opened on its own accord. At least that was my first impression. Half a beat later I caught a strange scent. It was not unpleasant, just different. Then I looked down and saw JRR Tolkein's inspiration for Bilbo Baggins. He couldn't be more three feet tall. He also had a large nose and olive skin. His neatly combed hair was coarse golden brown and very thick. He also had no shaved in the past few days and stubble covered his cheeks and chin.

He wore a wrinkled navy blue buttoned shirt under a light gray suit jacket with plain denim jeans and sneakers on his feet. I briefly wondered if he had a tailor or went to the opposite of a big and tall shop. I hid a smile at the thought of him shopping in the children's section trying to find clothes without cartoons on them.

I suppose I could have been wrong this man being a, for the lack of a better word, a hobbit, but his scent was not human enough. He was a supernatural being of some kind and I just didn't know what. In a world where vampires, werewolves, shifters, and fairies exist I didn't think that hobbits were too much of a stretch. I really needed to get out more.

"Well this new." He said with a surprisingly deep voice. He looked up at me for a moment before he looked at Christine. "Especially for you."

"Dr. Laurie!" Christine squeaked. "I — "

"Large, two sugars, skin and cream?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah." Christine plucked a cup from the tray I was holding and handed it to him. "Like you take it."

"Mhm." Dr. Laurie took a sip, but eyed me curiously. "At least something's going right. Come in."

Christine quickly stepped in with her tray of coffee and pastry box and I heard two voices greet her.

"Here." I bent down to hand him the coffee and pastries.

"I'd rather not." He pushed the door open and motioned for me to follow. "The scones in those boxes are bigger than me and twice my weight. Just put 'em on the table."

I stepped in and saw it wasn't exactly an office. It was more break room. A television hung in the corner on the far wall with a bookshelf filled with thick books. The carpet was thin and was a bluish gray color. There long white vertical shades along the far wall, but it was clear that this room had a view. On the wall adjacent to the door I entered from was a glass door that led to an actual office with a desk, a chair, and a computer.

"_Wǒ de shén_!" cried a voice.

I turned to see the other half of the room. There was a microwave tucked into the corner along with a small refrigerator and an old coffee machine covered in a thick layer of dust. There was a chalkboard facing a table. At the table sat a young black man, an attractively bookish woman, and a very terrified and angry Asian man. Other than Christine and Dr. Laurie they all wore white lab coats which meant they were all doctors. A quick sample of the air told me that the black man was the only pure human. The woman was a Were and Asian man was a shifter some sort and very large one at that.

"I can explain!" Christine said quickly.

"Get out!" exclaimed the Asian doctor "I revoke your invitation!"

"I'm afraid that won't work, Xióng ." Laurie laughed as he walked past me. "If he needed an invitation then he wouldn't have be able to get past the lobby."

"That doesn't exactly help us any." said the black doctor.

"What were you thinking bringing one these things here?!" Xióng snapped at Christine.

"He has a point." the woman turned to Christine. "Considering what's been — "

"Can we get back to the medicine?" shouted Laurie. Everyone instantly turned to look at him and he responded. "I only ask because there's a potentially dying man downstairs who might need some and it might help to narrow down the list."

"You don't honestly expect us to ignore this _guàiwù_." Xióng snapped. "Do you even know what they're capable of?"

"So shot in the dark." I pointed to Xióng and looked to Christine. "But I'm sensing he doesn't like me very much or is it just me?"

"He'll kill us — "

"If he wanted to kill us he would have done so already." Laurie said lazily. "So unless you have death wish, I'd suggest sitting down and start offering diagnoses that don't match any of the symptoms like you usually do." Laurie sipped his coffee. "You of all people should know what happens when you poke a sleeping bear."

"So you shift into a bear." I said in mock astonishment. "That's impressive."

"You would do well to remember that." Xióng growled. "Monster!"

"Oh, I'm a monster." I leaned forward on the table and let my fangs run out slowly. "Then perhaps you should speak softly to me then because just recently Weres and Shifters are dropping like flies."

"Ladies, ladies, ladies." Laurie said nonchalantly. "You're both very pretty and I'm sure someone will ask you to the prom. Now can we get back to the matter at hand."

"Alright." I stood up straight and said wryly. "But don't expect me to put out until I see a ring first."

Despite the tension in the room, Christine stifled a laugh. Unfortunately even the human could have heard it. Xióng shot her a look before taking his seat all the while staring daggers at me. I ignored him and drifted to the bookshelf and looked at the interesting complicated titles, but one caught my interest. I picked up History of Hematology and opened it to the first page. As I read, I was aware everyone else had begun talking.

"I know, Xióng." Laurie sipped from his coffee. "This hospital would be the greatest place in the world if it wasn't for those inconsiderate sick people who keep you from moonlight as Van Helsing."

"Now that's out of the way." the black doctor, who's name I had to learn, opened a folder. "Thirty-two year old male. Two hundred pounds. Five foot ten. Sudden and unprovoked cardiac arrest. Works as a security guard."

"Where was he when he had the attack?" Laurie asked as chewed on something.

"In bed."

"See? This is why Epps got the gold stars in kindergarten." Laurie mockingly praised before he paused. "Hold on. Anyone with him in bed?

"He's married." said the woman.

"Not what I asked, Wilde." Laurie clarified. "I meant was he sleeping when he had the attack?"

"He said his wife is on vacation in France." said Dr. Wilde.

"So no then." Laurie sighed. "Next."

"Hold on." said Christine suddenly. "It says here that he was alone in bed when the attack happened."

Despite being surprisingly engrossed in how there were than the four blood types I was familiar with, I chuckled.

"See?" Laurie said. "He gets it."

"What?"

"Hey, vampire." Laurie called.

"D —" Christine said and I quickly cut her off.

"Donald." I said quickly.

"What?" Laurie asked.

"My name." I explained. "Donald Blake."

"Alright, Donald." Laurie motioned Christine. "Explain to her why the security guard is an open and shut case."

"Have you even been to medical school?" Xióng asked smugly.

"No." I said. "But I've never missed an episode of Doogie Howser."

"I'm starting to like to him." Laurie smiled. "Xióng, let him talk."

"His wife is in France. Since she probably told him it was going to mean they couldn't spend Valentine's day together, I'm guessing it's not a happy marriage." I explained. "Normally, I'd say he was having an affair, but it turns out they both are."

"How did —"

"Come on, the city of love on Valentine's day with her short and fat husband on another continent. If she's not having an affair, it's probably crossed her mind." I pointed to the folder. "At two hundred pounds, assuming he's not a body builder, means he probably has some heart problems or at the very least it's a strain for his heart to pump blood." I made a 'what are you gonna do' gesture with my hands. "So unhappy marriage coupled with valentine's day and both on opposite of the globe, he'd probably got a hooker and excitement was too much for his already strained heart which led to the heart attack."

"But. . ." Christine flipped through the folder. "How did . . ."

"How did he dial 911?" I asked. "He didn't. She did and disappeared before the ambulance showed up."

"Why would he lie?" Christine asked. "He could die if —"

"People lie." Laurie said lazily as he repeated a hundred times a day. "Especially stupid people."

"And bears make excellent throw rugs." I winked at Xióng. "These are things we know."

"Was that a threat?" Xióng growled.

"And you're, what, shocked and surprised?" I mocked. "You said yourself, I'm a vampire."

"Well that was pretty accurate deduction, but you're half right." Laurie held up a slip of paper. "It was erectile dysfunction medicine that caused the heart attack and the stress."

"It doesn't say that." Wilde said.

"Please, he's overweight and probably has a host of blood flow problems." Laurie motioned to me. "And working at a dead end security job. If he's not completely brain-dead then he'll probably be miserable." Laurie asked. "And Wilde here can tell you from experience it's as much as a mental issue as it a physical."

"How about this one?" Wilde open another file and made attempt to hide her annoyance. "Thirty-five year old magician. Sudden cardiac arrest."

"No history of heart disease and no angina?" Laurie asked sounding interested.

"Assuming he isn't lying, yeah." Wilde nodded.

"What was he doing?"

"It says Chinese water torture." Epps shrugged. "Whatever that is."

"Sounds like that's up your alley, Xióng." Laurie teased.

"I don't know." Xióng looked offended. "I'm not a magician."

"It's where they tie him up and lower him upside down into a tank of water." I turned a page to an old diagram of major blood vessels in the body which made my hunger rear it's ugly head again. "So that's what it's called."

"How do you know that?" Xióng demanded.

"Oh, don't feel too bad, Xióng." I looked up and smiled. "It's not actually Chinese."

"How do you know, Donald?" Christine asked putting an emphasis on my new name.

"In 1975, I saw a magician Doug Henning perform it on NBC." I explained, although I purposely left out I had been six and had been amazed by what I saw. "Houdini invented it."

"So a drowning man's heart stopped?" Laurie sighed. "That is a mystery."

"According to his assistant," Wilde turned a page in the file. "He lost consciousness almost immediately as he hit the water."

"He's lying."

"ER confirmed." Epps took the file from Wilde. "No —"

"About everything!" Laurie rolled his eyes. "He's a magician. It's what they do. Screwed up the trick, started drowning, and he got a cardiac arrest."

"Even if he was drowning." Wilde protested. "It would have taken longer to set off—"

"Fine!" Laurie dismissed them with a wave of hand. "Go run your stupid tests. If you're wrong, you're fired."

"If I'm right, do I stay?"

"That depends." I said and looked up from the book. "If he says no, are you going to let the patient die?"

"What he said."

Everyone stood and left one by one.

"Not you, Willis." Laurie called out. "Close the door behind you, Xióng."

He did as he was asked, but paused to look at Laurie and give me a death stare which I responded with a wink.

"Take off your shirt." Laurie ordered.

"W-what?" Christine stammered.

I paused in my reading and flicked my gaze towards the diminutive doctor. In the next few seconds, it might turn out that Xióng wasn't the only one with a death wish. I just might get a feed tonight after all. It would be more like an appetizer, but it was better than nothing.

"Your shirt." Laurie repeated. "Off!"

"Uh, I'm not wearing a bra." Christine said in way of protest.

"I noticed when I opened the door." Laurie said surprisingly without leering. "It's also not why I asked. You've been favoring your right."

Christine looked to me and I carefully set the book down. Instead of removing it, she merely rolled it up to expose her hip. Christine might not have been a vampire, but clearly Shifters had increased healing as well. She'd probably have a scar, but it was better than the alternative. The hole was about the size of penny and with little bits of black caked blood around the edges. The flesh was a bright pink where there was a slight indent and the raised edges made it look it was slowly being swallowed up.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say you had one crazy round of paintball." Laurie motioned for her to come closer.

"Ow!" She yelped.

"Hmm." He tilted his head. "It looks weeks old."

"I sense a but coming." I said.

"But," He looked up at Christine. "The dried blood hardly looks a day old." Then he looked to me and he smiled. "Ah, it was you."

"Yes." I said knowing it was pointless in denying it.

"Strange." Laurie scratched his chin. "You're kind isn't exactly knowing for treating wounds. Especially for Weres and Shifter." He asked. "What happened?"

"I made a turn down an alley and found some young wannabe tough guy calling themselves the Latin Kings or something." I made air quotes for wrong turn. "I try to pick and choose my meals so they don't cause too much of a fuss."

"And everyone would think a rival gang killed them." Laurie nodded his understanding. "Go on."

"I miscounted and she took a bullet." I said. "I thought she was some stray that wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Why help her?"

"Self interest." I half lied. "The police were closing in. If for some reason events led to humans discovering Shifters then it would be a short road to assuming that alongside Werewolves that vampires existed as well." I smoothly added. "Plus the last thing I need is her family or pack or whatever sniffing around my apartment and assuming I had something to do with it." I motioned to the wound. "I sucked out the bullet and cleaned the hole and getting my dinner in the process, dripped some of my blood into the hole, and then fed her some of my blood."

"Then why follow her here?"

"She mentioned she worked here." I shrugged. "I had plans with the coroner and thought I'd kill two birds with one stone."

"Coroner?" Christine lowered her shirt.

"She's a vampire." Laurie said. "Practically built this place."

"You know her?" I asked.

"We've met her and there." Laurie admitted. "Helped me with some of my more difficult cases."

"Here!" Laurie took a pad and scribbled on it. "Go to the pharmacy and have them fill it out. Even with your guardian angel's blood, you're going to be sore. Pop two and go down to that poser's room and assist Wilde."

"Yessir!" Christine tucked the paper into a pocket. "Come on, Don."

"Mind if I borrow this?" I held up the book.

"A bit of light reading?" Laurie asked. "Or considering a career choice?"

"A bit of both." I admitted. "Saves me the time figuring it out over the next hundred years."

"Better things to do?"

"Well, it's a bit cliche, but I've always wanted to sing on Broadway."

"Keep it." Laurie said as he reached for a danish. "My way of saying thanks for getting her to work and spicing up an otherwise boring night."

Christine and I both exited together. We walked down the hallway and rode the elevator down. It would have been in silence but Christine broke it hardly a second after the doors closed.

"Donald Blake?" She asked.

"Yes?"

"No, I meant what's with the new name?"

"As far as everyone knows, Dominick Valentino is dead." I said. "I can't go around using my name with everyone I meet."

"I guess you're right." She nodded reluctantly. "But why Donald Blake?"

"When Marvel introduced Thor in '62, he had an alter ego like every super hero." I smiled. "Thor's human name was Dr. Donald Blake."

"Oh." Christine said. "I didn't think you still read those things."

"Why not?"

"Seems kinda weird to read about guy who can bench-press a car, run at the speed of light, and fly when you can do it yourself."

"I never thought about it that way." I said. "The way you put it, I'm a pair of tights and a cape away from living every nerd's dream."

"I can it see now." Christine laughed. "Asleep during the day, but villains beware the darkness."

"I am vengeance. I am the night." I said in a dramatic voice. "I. Am. Batman!"

"Batman?"

"So I gotta work on the name." I smiled and looked at her "Not to mention a sidekick."

"No chance."

"Yeah, you're right." I teased. "You'd be my Lois Lane."

"What?"

"I've already saved you once." I pretended to muse. "What's a few more dozen times?

Rather than respond, she punched my arm.

"Okay." I made a show of rubbing my arm. "Any chance we can split those pills?"

With that we walked together down several halls and corridors. I was beginning to understand why my kind were attracted to hospitals. It was an effort not stop every time the scent of blood passed me by. It didn't matter if it was an old man who was bleeding through a slight cut from scratching at a cast or a janitor pushing a trash bag that had a large amount of bloodstained scrubs and bandages. It was becoming difficult not to think of of a way to disappear and head to the ER. This was a New York hospital. There had to be some unfortunate soul that was not long for this world. I wasn't sure if Christine was aware of it or not, but she made no mention of it either way.

We reached a room, but it was empty.

"Excuse me," Christine asked a plump black nurse who's had several paper cuts. "Where is Dr. Wilde and the patient."

"O.R." the nurse said lazily. "Something happened when they tried to give him an MRI."

To my surprise, Christine took off in a flash running down a hallway and disappearing when she hung a left.

"Looks like Laurie found a case then." the nurse said to herself.

"That or she really wants him for a birthday party." I smiled polite. "Any chance you can tell me how to get to the O.R ?"

"You can't go inside, but you can look in the observation deck."

"Alright."

Unlike Christine, I walked. I knew I had a perfect opportunity to find a much needed meal. So why didn't I do that? Truth be told, I wasn't sure myself. Perhaps it was that for the first time in months, I felt some semblance of content. Sure, I'd rather that Christine and could catch up over a drinks or take in a movie, but it was enough that I had friend who didn't demand I drop whatever I might be doing to rub her belly. At least not until the full moon in three weeks.

I eventually reached the observation deck. To my surprise, Christine was there as well and it was clear her wound hadn't healed as well as Laurie thought. It was either that or she had sustained another injury in the three minutes it took for me to reach the observation deck. I could smell the blood in the air. She was speaking into an intercom.

"A fungus in his lungs?" Christine asked.

"It would lead to decreased oxygen saturation." Wilde said over the intercom. "Which leads to cardiac failure."

"The E.R didn't pick up anything." Christine sounded confused.

"They wouldn't be looking for it." Wilde continued. "They'd be too busy keeping him alive."

"What should I do?"

"Find out what causes internal bleeding without trauma while we stabilize him." Wilde said. "Get me three bags of AB positive!"

"Doogie Howser never got this intense." I said.

"Not now." She snapped. "This isn't the time for jokes."

"It's also not the time for the hundred meter dash."

"What?"

"There." I pointed. "You're bleeding."

"What?" She looked down and sighed. "Damn it!"

"Come here." I set the book down.

"Uh, that's alright." She protested. "I'm fine."

"But I'm not." I said. "I'm hungry and you bleeding like a stuck pig is really distracting."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stop the bleeding."

I carefully made sure no one was watching us and noticed that the observation deck was hardly more than small corridor. There were a line of cushioned benches opposite floor to ceiling windows overlooking an operating room. It was currently filled with the patient and half a dozen nurses and doctors in light green scrubs and surgical masks.

I let my fangs run out and stealthily pricked a finger tip. Before she could ask I intended to do, I slipped my hand up her shirt and dabbed my blood into the hole. I guessed it would stop the bleeding and speed up the healing process a tad.

"Better?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah." She said clearly uncomfortable. "Thanks."

I retrieved my hand and saw my palm was slightly stained with Christine's blood. I suppose it was possibly rude and creppy for me to lick it clean and follow it up with a longing licking of my lips, but I'm not perfect.

"It's really hard for you isn't it?" Christine said softly. "Being around so many people who are hurt."

"Yeah." I admitted as I sat down. "I'm starting to think this is how a lion feels at the zoo."

"What do you mean?"

"All that blood and excitement down there." I nodded towards the windows. "And I'm stuck up here." I realized I didn't like that pitying look on she was giving me. I forced a smile. "But it helps if I can keep my mind busy. So what's wrong with our Houdini wannabe?"

"Internal bleeding." Christine said sounding grateful for the change in subject. "With no trauma."

"What can cause that?"

"It's a long list." She sighed. "Liver disease or a Vitamin K deficiency."

"Is it possible that the E.R doctors missed something?"

"They would have noticed something chronic like liver disease. It could be an intestinal infarct."

"So assuming no one missed anything, then something happened between being stabilized in the E.R and having an MRI." I paused when I realized something. "What is an MRI?"

"It's medical jargon for magnetic resonance imaging." She explained patiently. "Short version, it's like an x-ray that uses really powerful magnets to see organs and anything softer than bone."

"Magnets?" For some reason it stuck out to me.

"Yeah. It's why no metal is allowed in the room."

"Because the second you turned the machine on, anything metal would be like shoot through the air like a bullet." A thought came to me. "Is there anything in history about car accident?"

"What does that have to with anything?"

"Remember when Eric broke his wrist when a car clipped him on his bike?" I asked. "Didn't they put metal screws or pins to set it?"

"Oh my god!" Her eyes went wide. "You're right!"

"Half right actually." said a voice.

We both turned. Well, Christine wheeled and jumped while I turned my head casually. I had heard her enter. Her vampiric scent mixed with a slight hint of cleaning alcohol and french perfume told me all I need to know. When she spoke, it was just a confirmation.

"Hello, Sally." I tried to hide a smile at Christine's reaction.

"Hello, Du—"

"This is Christine." I said quickly.

The last thing I needed was for Christine to learn I'm the dreaded Ductor. With her father being a Were, it wasn't too far fetched that she had family members among the dead. Even if she didn't, the fact that Ryuu and his nest had obliterated the Mahingan pack which had included innocent children would definitely cause her to look at me differently. She already did that enough.

"This is certainly new." Sally remarked.

"A vampire and a Shifter not tearing each other to pieces?" I smiled. "Well, Christine and I are old friends." I turned to her. "Right, Christine?"

"Uh, yeah." She said. "I,um, knew Dominick when he, uh, was human?"

"You sound unsure." Sally teased.

"She's still getting used to the fact of our condition."

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Sally winked playfully. "I won't bite."

"What dose it take for you people to get that is not funny?" Christine demanded.

"Spirited." Sally smiled teasingly. "I like her."

"What did you mean I was half right?" I asked.

"The patient is a magician is he not?" Sally asked. "Not a genuine one, but an illusionist?"

"Yes." i said. "Chinese Water Torture."

"Ah, I see." Sally looked over and licked her lips at the bloody sight. It was the reason I avoided looking directly. "I was there one of the many times Houdini performed it in 1912." She smiled at me. "Have you figured out how it is done?"

"No." I said. "But in the interest of time could you just tell me?"

"Very well." Sally shrugged. "I said you were only half right because it is true that if a piece of metal was holding a joint or bone in place, it would be ripped out when an MRI was attempted. There are many ways and variation, but Houdini simply relied on the simple method of keeping a key to his bonds in his mouth."

"So he swallowed a key and didn't notice it?" I asked.

"All magicians learn to control their gag reflex." Sally explained. "From what I've seen it is fairly simple to learn and is the basis for many tricks, like having a dove appear out the mouth."

"I'd get down there." I told Christine.

"I'll just use the intercom." she said.

"You want to impress Laurie?" I asked.

"It'd be a big help."

"Then get down there, put on some scrubs, and pull a key out of spleen." I smiled amusingly. "And don't forget to say, nothing in my hands and nothing up my sleeve while you do."

Christine rolled her eyes, but quickly left through the door.

"You really are a strange one." Sally said once Christine was out of earshot.

"How so?" I asked, although I had a feeling I knew why.

"You have made many enemies among the two-natured of the city and Long Island not even a year ago." Sally reminded me. "Now you aid and fraternize with one."

"Your point?"

"It seems you are having a difficult time deciding on which side of genius and insanity to remain upon."

"It's complicated. I haven't told her that I'm the Ductor. I'm not sure how she'd react." I told her. "We were friends when I was human. One of the few to treat me with any decency. I happened to walk by an alley while she was being mugged."

"She is a Shifter. They can take care of themselves." Sally said callously. "If a few pathetic humans can overpower her then she deserves it."

"The alley was too full of rotten garbage to catch her scent." I chose not agree with her on whether Christine did deserve whatever misfortune fell upon her. "Had I waited, then I would seen her shift. Instead, I jumped in and killed them. I was careless and she took a bullet." I finished. "I manage to carry her to my nest. I healed her wound."

"Your nest?" Sally frowned. "How did you convince your maker and your nestmates?"

"I didn't."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you remember the night we met?" I asked.

"Yes."

"In the weeks before that my nestmates all left one by one." I tried to sound matter of fact and not let any emotion into my voice. "The night before we met, my maker had me running to Brooklyn then to Mill Neck on Long Island before bringing back Westbury." I paused to let that sink in. "That was the last of I saw her."

"Am I to understand you have been without guidance since we last spoke?"

"Yes." I added. "I'm assuming Mai has told Matthew by now and I'll probably return to find out what he plans. It's part of the reason I'm tagging along with Christine. Like you pointed out, who would think to find the Ductor in company with Shifters and Weres?"

"You think he means to kill you?" Sally looked surprised. "You are young, yes, but he would be a fool to do so. He will likely invite you under his command."

"And if I refuse?"

"Why would you?"

"Sally, I spent my entire human life keeping my head down and out of trouble." I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "I could go on in greater detail, but I'm done surviving."

"So you wish to end your life by proxy rather than by your own hand?"

"What? No!" I shook my head. "I want to live! I want to experience everything that was denied and taken away from me. If I read a book, it will because I desire to and because someone else thinks himself above such a menial task. If I leave the city, it will be my choice as will the destination and not to further no one's agenda other than my own." I finished with. "I am through with following orders for others."

"Ah, the rebellion of youth." Sally nodded her understanding.

"What now?"

"It is a phase all newborns experience." Sally explained. "Eventually all vampire think they are too powerful for rules and order. It will pass."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I suggest you hone your gift as a warrior would his blade. It will go a long way in keeping you alive." Sally said respectfully. "Young you may be, but your intellect might just allow to stand with those that rule whom have had centuries of experience."

"I'll keep that mind." I said. "But I have no desire to rule."

"Still, you could not do worse then our current king." Sally frowned. "Would you believe he demands half of my pay in addition to the taxes deducted by the city, state, and federal government?"

"I thought it was strictly businesses owned by our kind."

"It was." Sally growled. "But it seems that his subjects are leaving and he wishes to make up for lost revenue."

I would have commented on that, but Christine came back in. She wasn't wearing any bloodstained scrubs or gloves, but the scent of it clung to her like the most alluring and tantalizing perfume ever made. I clenched my jaw and fought the urge to clamp on her neck.

"Hey, Dom." She paused then spoke to Sally. "You were right. We found a key, It ripped his spleen to shreds, but they managed to stop the bleeding."

"So what next?" I asked.

"Nothing until he recovers." Christine said. "Laurie is giving me the rest of the night to catch up on his paperwork."

"His paperwork?"

"If this Laurie is the same short man I know then he always has his underlings deal with such tasks." Sally said. "His ego is surprisingly large for one like him, but then again I suppose he is somewhat entitled to it."

"I just need head up to his office." Christine asked. "Meet me at the lobby?"

"Sure." I said.

"Thanks." She looked to Sally. "Both of you."

I waited for a moment and asked Sally. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"What is it?"

"I haven't had time to hunt these past two nights." I explained. "Any chance you have some blood to spare?"

"Luckily for you, the hospital just got a delivery of blood last night." Sally nodded. "It's not uncommon for a bag or two to become damaged upon arrival and disposed of by some unknown employee." Sally motioned. "Go on. I will send an intern."

I thanked Sally for the blood and made way to the lobby. I hardly waited two minutes before a young thin black man with glasses walked up to me and wordlessly handed me a brown paper bag. Once he left, I peered inside the bag and smiled. It seemed Sally had her own gift. Instead of leaving the blood in the transfusion bags, she had poured it into twenty ounce soda bottles. The bottles bore the label of generic fruit punch. I took one out and unscrewed the cap.

I was midway through the bottle when Christine returned.

"Alright, I'm ready to go." She asked."What are you drinking?"

I ignored her and kept drinking. I was too occupied in not starving.

"Dom?"

Again, I ignored her. Unfortunately, she made a mistake and grabbed my shoulder. While I didn't shove her against a wall like Mai had when I interrupted her feed, I'm sure me hissing her with blood stained fangs was warning enough. Luckily the lobby was practically empty and the nurse tending to the desk had just disappeared behind the door to the lady's room.

"D-D-Dom?" She stuttered. "It's m-me, remember?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." I swallowed and licked my lips. "It's a reflex."

"Oh." She asked."W-where did y-you get that blood?"

"Sally gave me some." I held up the bag. "One of the perks of working in a hospital."

"That's not for eating." Christine said. "What if someone needs that?"

"The hospital just got a delivery last night." I protested. "It's only two bottles." I noticed she looked like she wanted to say something. "It's either this to keep going for the night or drain someone dry tomorrow."

"Fine."

"So going home?" I asked as I sipped at the bottle.

"Actually, I was wondering if you knew any cheap hotels nearby." Christine explained. "I'd rather not go home right now. My dad'll just have Laurie come out to us since he's the only Supe doctor within a hundred miles."

"Something wrong with my place?"

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"As long you promise not to order pizza or garlic chicken." I smiled warmly. "Plus, it'll give us time to catch up."

"I still need to catch up on Laurie's paperwork." She warned.

"I know what you mean." I teased. "I have a hard time talking and writing at the same time too."

"Alright." She laughed. "It's not like I have any cash anyway."

Instead of a taxi, we rode the subway and emerged on the corner of Broadway and Canal Street. Traffic was still heavily congested as were the crowds on the streets, but I didn't care. I had enough blood so my hunger was no longer clawing away at my thoughts. Christine had calmed down from what had happened at the lobby and seemed to be more accepting of my condition.

It might take some time and effort, but I might just get my friend back. I decided not to tell her about my identity as the Ductor. At least, not right away. Vampire/Shifter relations were difficult enough without any extra obstacles. I knew eventually she'd deduce my gift, which I wouldn't hesitate to admit, but she couldn't guess I was the Were equivalent of the boogieman. After all, the rumor was the Ductor was supposedly turned during the ancient Roman empire. As far as Christine was concerned, the vampire at her side was nothing more than old friend who was making the best of an impossible situation.

We reached my building and rode the elevator up to the twelfth floor. We chatted about our old friends and what they had gone on to do as we casually walked to door 221B. I had barely reached for my keys when the door opened on its own accord. I froze when I saw who had opened the door.

Mai stood with a surprised look on her face. She wore the same clothes as last night, although she wore a bit more jewelry and a bit more make-up. At her feet was another camping pack presumably stuffed with large bundles of singles. She had told me the Weres were dragging thier feet with thier payment and I would receive other half in a few days' time. No doubt Matthew had grown impatient and demanded they get with the program.

"Well," Mai smiled like a fox. "Isn't this a surprise."

"Dominick?" Christine took a step back from this potentially dangerous vampire. "Who is this?"

"My words exactly." Mae looked to me. "Would care to tell me who is this, Ductor?

"Ductor?" Christine's eye went wide at my alias. "Why did she call you that?"

"I take it you have not told her yet." Mai smiled triumphantly.

"_Ni ta ma de_!" I cursed under my breath. "_Tianxia suoyoude ren. Dou gaisi_."

I was beginning to think that, if reincarnation held any truth, I had seriously angered each and every deity known to man. After all, so much bad luck on one person in the whole grand scheme of the universe couldn't be merely coincidental.


	5. A Ductor Is Born

Was it this easy for everyone?

I thought to myself as I stood in a very brightly lit and painted blinding white hallway. All these months of hard work and organizing so not one little thing was out of place. This place would be my weapon against the world and my sacred sanctuary from the world and those whom would seek to harm however they went about it. It was then I realized I failed to name my creation. Well, if the Ductor was Latin then it was only proper that followed suit. This provided me an excellent opportunity for a test run.

I began walking down the hallway.

Normally the intensity of the light should have greatly hindered my eyes, but they did not. Everything was perfectly illuminated and silent. Not even the dull hum of florescent light bulbs or the light whir of an air conditioner. All that could be heard were my footsteps on polished marble floor the sound echoing up and down the hall. Just as the thought that it would be nice to have some light music playing in the background, I felt a weight in my pocket. I retrieved a small remote half the size of a dollar bil with only two buttons. The first was a triangle turned sideways and I instantly knew that it was the symbols for play on countless radios and music players. The second button was two smaller triangle also pointing to the right which was the symbols for next.

I hit play and music began to play. It was a song I had heard before and instantly recognized it as The Beatles classic Let It Be. It was just like I remembered, slow and simple with minimal fluff and flash.

_There will be an answer, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be_

_Yeah there will be an answer, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be_

_Let it be, let it be_

_Whisper words of wisdom, let it be_

I then hit next and the song changed instantly. This one I had not heard before, at least not performed by any professional artists I knew of. It was part of an unfinished project of mine, one of many, that I had started and promised myself I'd finish it later. I had only played it on piano, but this version was performed by a full band.

_I have often dreamed of a far off place_

_Where a hero's welcome, would be waiting for me_

_Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face_

_And a voice keeps saying, this is where I'm meant to be_

_I'll be there someday, I can go the distance_

_I will find my way, if I can be strong_

_I know ev'ry mile, will be worth my while_

_When I go the distance, I'll be right where I belong_

I continued down the hallway, slipping the remote into a pocket before it's weight disappeared as quick as it appeared. As I walked, I'd passed several doors. Each door was considerably different from the rest. One was a rich dark mahogany with a handle of polished brass with the next one was composed of opaque glass like an office door. Then came a sliding patio door, but the glass was pitch black. There was even one made of Chinese bamboo tied together by woven vines. Not all the doorways had actual doors. Some merely had bead curtains, but they had dozens upon dozens of designs. One was a tropical beach with a hammock between two palm trees while the following one was two red macaws flying through the jungles of Brazil.

Next to each doorway was a little sign that labeled the room. To anyone else, they were incomprehensible. To me it was plain as words on a page. For example, I passed a door with a stone knife crossing with modern day M16 rifle which meant beyond the door was a collection of information on weapons both old and new. Next to the door adjacent to that one was a little map of Europe with no labels. Only a little red X on the northern French beach with the date June 6th 1944. If I was to enter that room, I'd would be surrounded by various war strategies and tactics.

I quickly came to a four way intersection. Ignoring the way I had come from, three ways stretched before me until I could not see any farther. There were no arrows or signs of any kind. The only markers of any kind were a pair of statues posted opposite each other like gate posts with a gate. To my left were larger than life marble statues of the two greatest Roman Generals, Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus and Gaius Julius Caesar. The path straight ahead was flanked by an imposing Genghis Khan on a rearing horse his mouth wide open in a silent battle cry carved entirely of black granite. Opposite him was a stoic red clay, but just imposing in his own way, Sun Tzu. Finally on my right was, standing at attention in his uniform, a bronze statue of George S. Patton with wax figure of a the most famous Chiricahua Apache, Geronimo.

I took the path to my left and walked between Caesar and Scipio.

This new path was exactly the same as the previous one. Same white walls and ceiling. I began to pass more doorways, but each was flanked by marble columns of various designs and colors. There were no labels like the previous corridor. Instead, each doorway was marked with items just above it. I passed a door with a full red and gold shield the size of a refrigerator door which sat next to a door way with pristine slightly pink columns that had an old map of Italy overhead. I stopped at the next door and smiled feeling extremely please. Right where I left it.

This door was not like the others. There were no marble columns or fancy designs to distinguish itself among the others. It was made of simple polished wood with a golden handle and slid to open. Stamped in gold were the letters SPQR with two laurel wreaths curving to cradle the letter on either side. I grasped the handle and carefully slid the door open.

Rather than a room, I reveal a small compartment with a single shelf. On the shelf, on a simple wooden stand, was an incredibly thick red leather bound book. It appeared to be those gigantic tomes you would seem in films that wizards and witches often recited spells or consulted from. It had to be at least six inches thick and with pages and cover a whopping one foot by five inches. I carefully picked up the book, surprised by it's lack of weight. Then I remembered where I was. Of course, I wouldn't feel it's weight. It would just be a hindrance. The title were two simple words, Lingua Romae. The authors' names were written on the spine instead of under the title and were cited as Romulus et Remus.

I opened the book. There was no table of contents or dedication page. After all, I wasn't looking for a novel. I examined the first page to be certain I had opened the correct the door. It read :

**abbas abbatis **: father / abbot.

**abbatia **: abbey, monastery.

**abduco **: to lead, or take away / detach, withdraw.

**abeo **: to go away, retire / depart from life, die.

**abscido **: to cut off, to separate, take away.

**absconditus **: hidden, concealed.

I smiled proudly and waved a hand over the pages. As if by magic, it was in a way if I was honest, the pages turned themselves at great speed. Just as quickly as the began, they stopped and I was staring at the 'S' section. As you might have guessed, I was holding a very easy to use, and special, Latin to English dictionary. It read :

**sabbatum **: sabbath.

**sacculus **: purse, little bag, little sack.

**sacrificum **: sacrifice.

**sacrilegus **: sacrilegious, impious.

**saepe/sepe** : hedge, fence, enclosure, haye.

**saepenumero **: repeated, again and again.

I nodded and waved my hand over the page again. The pages did not turn themselves like before. Instead a small little glow appeared at the bottom of the right page. Before I could blink, the glow floated off the page and stopped at eye. The glow died down slightly and I saw it was a word with its definition.

"Sacrum." I read aloud.

I felt it was missing something. The word continued to float and I returned my gaze to the book in my free hand. Like before, I waved hand over the page. A second glow appeared, this one near the middle of the left page, and joined the first word. I felt I was incredibly close to my goal.

"Sanctuarium." I nodded, agreeing with the word.

I closed the book and returned it to its stand.I closed the door and turned my full attention to the floating words. Together, they would the perfect name. It would just require some fine tuning.

"Sacrum." I repeated and observed it's meaning. "Sacred." Then I turned my attention to the other word and its definition. "Sanctuarium. Sanctuary." I held my chin for a moment before I made a go away gesture. "Shoo!"

Just like that, the definitions twinkled and faded away. I nodded once and twirled a finger in a circle. The words switched locations with Sanctuarium in front of Sacrum. I held my palm over Sacrum and letters began to appear and shift around at blinding speed. I removed my hand half a second later and was rewarded with a derivative of sacrum, sanctum. I turned my attention to sanctuarium and repeated the process. I took a step and marveled at my handiwork.

This would be my sacred sanctuary from and against the world.

My Sanctum Sanctorum.

With my goal achieved, I closed my eyes.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in my apartment sitting cross legged on a leather recliner. I looked down and saw Tux curled up in my lap. Despite the money I spent on the most comfortable pillows I could find in New York, my lap was her bed of choice. I scratched behind her ear and she barely stirred. Either her earlier nap had taken a lot out of her or she was still in that post meal coma that occurred whenever she devoured an entire fish with a creamy sauce. I leaned back slightly and looked around as if I wasn't already certain what I was looking at.

I had seriously redecorated since _that _night. I had spent my considerable fortune on my perfect home and spared little expense. I had done away with the old couches and recliners and replaced with them handmade and stitched genuine brown leather sofa with two matching recliners and two loveseats. For such a large purchase, and a substantial tip, the shop owner in a little a nondescript all the way in eastern Queens had thrown in a handful of cushions that matched the furniture perfectly. All except the piano, but there was nothing wrong with it other than the color and it struck as idiotic to get a rid of it and get a new one simply for the color. Plus, it held provided a convenient place for my work which was piled high until I found a proper place for a small mountain of paper.

The large price tag and long wait was worth every penny and second. The leather was genuine and supple as satin, but hardy enough that Tux's claws couldn't damage them even if she somehow acquired opposable thumb and went at it with a knife. It was so restful, I close my eyes and swear I was floating on a cloud. That was just the recliners. The couch was softer than some beds, but not so much that you would sink ten feet, and I made mental note not lay on it when sunrise was close. I had made that mistake once, and if not for Tux jumping onto my groin, I almost slept to death.

Directly ahead of me, past the coffee table piled high with stack of paper and pens, were my aquariums. Technically, it was one very large and long aquarium tank that was divided in two by a pane of glass down the middle. Neither side was a common aquarium with goldfish and the like.

The left side I was particular proud of. It took a bit of scouring the city for just the right materials or, failing that, some jerryrigging on my part, but I was rewarded with a scale model of China's Yu Garden. Actually it was not the whole garden as I required far more space than I had. Instead, it was a scale model of the Nine Lion Study in the middle of the space and surrounded by water. Some stones that had been shaped and polished were tucked into the corners with little Chinese wooden bridges connecting them in long arcs over the water. I thought it would make the occupants feel at home. That was assuming they had actually seen their home country.

The occupants were Tzu and Bin. They were what the Chinese called nishikigoi, or literally broaded carp. Most just called them Koi fish. Tzu was a scarlet koi. While I wouldn't call the beautiful scales that glistened in the right light a true scarlet, it was undenibely a gorgeous color that I'm sure most salmon would commit genocide to have such skin for just a day. He wasn't completely one single color. Like Tux and her paws, whom I am certain plots countless schemes to eat Tzu and Bin whenever I am out, the edges of Tzu's tail and fins were white and sparkling as freshly fallen snow. Bin's scale, on the other hand, were just as eye alluring only colored in reverse. Bin was almost completely white like an albino, but the edges of his tail and fins were the very same shade of scarlet as Tzu.

They were surprisingly intelligent for fish. They both could recognize me and playfully splashed whenever I fed them. They even ate out of my hand and seemed to enjoy when I gentle rubbed their heads. Despite what Tux might have thought for the first few nights, I had not grown bored of her. It just seemed like a nice addition to apartment when I passed a little shop called Zhang's Eastern Fish Emporium on Canal Street between Mott and Elizabeth in Chinatown. After a chat with the owner, an old Asian man who was probably older than some vampires and called Frank Baxster instead of Zhang, I came back the next night and bought Bin and Tzu.

While my new companions were a bit expensive, roughly three-hundred for each of them, I understood why. It was like buying a Best In Show's purebred puppies, if those puppies could potentially live a century or two. Once Frank told me about me a particular scarlet koi called Hanako, I was certain I made a wise choice. Hanako had been born sometime in mid 1751, with ownership being passed down through several family generations, and finally succumbed to natural causes in 1977.

Most humans have the problem of out living thier pets, but I had the exact opposite problem. Only a handful of animals on the planet that could even match a regular human lifespan and most of them don't make ideal pets. There was the Saltwater Crocodile with seventy plus average life span, but they grow far too large to keep for more than a couple of years. Then was of course the obvious fact it would be difficult to walk one down Broadway without leaving a bloody trail of severed limbs and stray poodles that had gotten to curious for their own good.

So I decided to go with Bin and Tzu. We might not share a taste for violence and bloody dismemberment, but we could do worse than grow old together.

It was that same reason I also that I kept another long lasting friend in the adjacent tank. He had just crawled out the water and onto his favorite sun basking stone. I swore I could see with a relaxing smile that I half expected him to take off his shell and properly get a tan. I had been a fan of a certain comic series and enjoyed the, if somewhat childish for a recent high school graduate, cartoon show that featured a popular team of mutated adolescent members of the Trachemys scripta family who practiced ninjustu. The members of this team shared name with the fathers of the Renaissance. Names like Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. While my friend didn't share a taste for pizza or the skills of a master ninja, he did have share a famous namesake from the Renaissance.

Galileo was a common and hardy red-eared slider. Red-eared sliders get their name from the small red dash around their ears. The "slider" part of their name comes from their ability to slide off rocks and logs and into the water quickly, of which I had yet to see Galileo do. They are almost entirely aquatic, but, as they are cold-blooded, they leave the water to sunbathe to regulate their temperature which I had supplied with a common heat lamp.

To my surprise, I learned Galileo was not entirely a vegetarian. Until he reached maturity, he'd require more protein than vegetation. Much to Tux's displeasure, whom apparently did not like sharing her precious shrimp, I fed Galileo shelled and shredded raw shrimp on a very small leaf of dark green romaine lettuce that he would have to eat to get to the more desirable protein.

If I could, I would of breathed a sigh of content. I had all I needed and wanted for the moment. I was living in a very spacious five bedroom apartment, which was actually two apartment that had been combined when the previous owners found they needed more space and convinced the landlord to renovate. That apartment sat in very sought after neighborhood in the most expensice borough of one, if not the, most expensive city in the world completely rent and utility kitchen had been updated to include a state of the art refrigerator, for both Tux's meals and my blood, along with marble counter-tops and red mahogany cabinets.

Just down the hall, formerly Doyle and Regina's rooms, was my library which was I was slowly filling with books ranging from every subject from Anthropolgy to Zoology. My room had not gone unchanged either. I had done away with my furniture and augmented my wardrobe. My bed was now an intricute wrought iron frame with the head and foot board beautifully twisted and bent in a very complicated design that someone had slaved long over. After searching an entire night and a long ferry ride to Staten Island, I found the perfect matress from a shop that I shocked to learn no one knew about. Not too firm that it was like solid concrete nor so soft one sank like a stone in a lake. Combined with the 1000-Thread-Count cotton sheets, I would find it hard to get out of bed if I could sleep more than two hours during the night.

While the closet still had the false bottom where my coffin sat, it also held my wardrobe. When I was human, I had sacrifice looks and quality for price. It wasn't the case anymore. I had done away with most of my old clothes. Although I kept both my JLA (Justice League of America) and Marvel shirts out of nostalgia. It was just as well. Some were too faded and worn. A few of my red shirts were a shade away from pink and my black and blue jeans were practically gray and sky blue. A quick trip to the Garment district to one of the landmarks boutiques that had been open since the fifties, or the many high end shops that were slowly cropping in northern Soho along Broadway, and had clothes that could match any of the celebrities and model in Tribeca.

I scratched behind Tux's ear to wake her up. She yawned and looked up at me still half asleep, but with an annoyed glint to her gaze as if it had better be important to interrupt her slumber. I gently coaxed her off my lap and she reluctantly took my spot on the recliner when I walked to the bathroom. I didn't feel the need to leave the apartment tonight. I had blood in the refrigerator, courtesy of Sally's connections to the many blood banks in the city, and I was incredibly close beating the final level of Super Mario World and defeating King Koopa. I was in for a long night or a short one if I snapped the delicate plastic controller. I was down to my last one and the only shop that would sell them in bulk was out of the way on the far side of Chinatown. I made a mental note to take one apart some night and make a more durable one, perhaps out of metal.

I had never had the chance, or money, to play video games before, but there was no reason for that to continue. I had heard of the NES and heard great things about the games you could play on it. The owner had explained that a new model had been released roughly the same year I was allowed to leave the apartment. So I bought a SNES or Super Nintendo which came packed with a game that was proving a frustrating challenge even after a month, and enough controllers to pay for two new systems, of playing. I had bought, played, and beaten other games. Games that were surprisingly deep and engaging like Super Castlevania IV and The Legend of Zelda : A Link to the Past, but Super Mario World was proving difficult. I was dangerously close to throwing the cartridge into the Hudson. Maybe I should have taken the shop owner's offer to subscribe to Nintendo Power.

Princess Peach would just have hold on a bit longer after I had a relaxing soak. I had remodeled the bathroom as well, but not as much. No need to change the toliet since there was no need to use it. The medicine cabinets I kept as they were. The only major change was I had done away with the tub and replaced it with a Jacuzzi. I don't know how I lived before I used it for the first time. With the water so warm while being massaged by the jets, I had contemplated on numerous occasions just laying there all night. Nothing but me, my thoughts, and slight hint of lavender in the steamy air.

I filled the tub with hot water and sprinkled some lovely scented bath salts from a little beauty boutique on Bleeker Street in Greenwich Village. I quickly undressed and adjusted the jets to just the right intensity. I made sure to turn on the radio I kept next to the stink before I slipped into the water.

"Ahhh . . ." I sighed as I slid up to my neck.

"Welcome back to WCBS-FM 101.1 FM!" came from the radio. "Where we play the greatest hits of the '60s, '70s & '80s!"

"Mhm." I managed to say at first. "Something good." I told the radio as if they could here me.

"Back before he was the bad thrilling king of pop, he was part of a small family band." cried the DJ. "If you can call The Jackson Five small. This is one of their first hits all the way back in '69."

_Oh baby, give me one more chance_

_(To show you that I love you)_

_Won't you please let me back in your heart_

_Oh darlin', I was blind to let you go_

_(Let you go, baby)_

_But now since I see you in his arms_

_(I want you back)_

_Yes I do now_

_(I want you back)_

_Ooh ooh baby_

_(I want you back)_

It just went to show that even the smallest thing can upset your plans. Here I had planned on merely enjoying a hot relaxing soak and sitting down on my most comfortable couch with glass of warm blood, courtsey of Sally's connections, and finally rescuing the princess. No regrets or distractions to occupy my mind other than how calculating how many lives I might need before I attempted to storm Bowser's castle. Instead a simple song, one I had enjoyed on countless times before without incident, just sent me back in time.

In my mind, I went back to a very important night. All the way back to that night where the idea for my Sanctum Sanctorum had been born out of anger and realization my gift was akin to a bar of metal that had yet to be shaped and polished into a lethal blade.

* * *

><p><span><strong>(Ten Months Previously - Febuary 14th - Valentine's Day)<strong>

"What is it with you ticks and your sick jokes?!" Christine demanded.

"Ticks?" Mai looked to me for explanation.

Sometimes you forgot that most vampires had lived in times before government funded education and they're knowledge was limited in some areas. Most of the time it evident when someone mentioned a medical procedure.

"Little spider like insects." I said calmly as I thought of a way out of explaining my alter ego to Christine. "They survive on blood."

"I see."

"What are you doing here, Mai." I asked.

"Dominick?" Christine asked. "You know her?"

"I would ask you the same, Ductor." Mai stood aside.

"Christine, this Mai." I quickly strode past Mai. "Mai, this is Christine."

I sank into a chair and opened the second bottle of blood. Something told me I was going to need it and part of me wished it was something stronger. Mai stood directly in front of me while Christine entered, but stood a step from the door and left it slightly ajar. If I unsettled her, then Mai probably made her even more anxious. At least enough to have an escape route handy.

"So who is the bitch?" Mai asked.

"My words exactly." Christine sneered.

"Enough!" I snapped. "Mai, why are you here?"

"Fulfilling Matthew's end of our bargain." She motioned to the pack at her feet.

"Bargain?" Christine asked.

"Yes." Mai eyed Christine annoyingly.

"Care to elaborate?" Christine raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Do it anyway."

Mai hissed, branding her fangs, and snarled. "Do not give me orders, _Akrooteh_!"

Christine flinched, but to my surprise, she snarled back. "The fuck you call me?"

"I said enough!" I shouted.

"I do not take orders from you!" Mai snapped while she locked eyes with Christine.

"Considering my orders saved a lot of our kind and your master's face." I reminded her. "I say you do!"

Mai seemed to mull it over for a moment and straightened, as did Christine. They both continued to lock eyes, but at least that was the worst of it.

"Dominick, what dose she mean Mathew's end of the bargain?" Christine asked.

"It dose not concern you." Mai growled. "It is a vampire affair."

"I wasn't asking you."

"You will get the same answer."

"You don't speak for me." I said firmly. "But I get your point." I looked to Christine. "Let's just say, I took care of pest problem for Matthew who is one of the higher ups in the area."

"After all we've been through, that's all you're going to tell me?"

"Be grateful that he is even giving you the courtesy of an answer." Mai remarked. "Especially to one your kind."

"Mai, you're not helping."

"I am not trying to help." Mai said plainly. "After all her kind have done to us, to you, I am confused to why we are not draining this _kalb _dry."

"I'd say we're even if you factor all we've done to them."

"What the fuck are you two talking about?!" Christine demanded.

"Very well. I will tell you." Mai sneered. "Matthew is my maker and sheriff of area two. Like Ryuu in Area Three, he suffered from a pest problem"

"Mai!" I shouted. "Don't!"

"His pest problem was a group of mongrels and their lesser friends had grown arrogant and thought little of their superiors." Mai stepped toward Christine who backed up. "They fought like the cowards they are and thought themselves the victor after claiming a paltry few!"

"Mai!" I shot to my feet and shouted. "Enough!"

"Then they learned we are not to be trifled with and paid for that lesson with their meaningless lives. Ryuu was swift. He was merciless and he was relentless. He and those who followed him did not stop until every last whimpering mongrel pup was nothing more than puddle at feet and unfit to drink!" Mai continued inching closer and Christine continued backing up. "But as the proverb says, one cannot teach an old dog new tricks and those that fled for their lives continued with their spineless ways abducting our kind."

Mai paused when Christine was against the wall and looked to me for a moment. I knew she wouldn't stop until she had finished and there was nothing I could do. All i could do was use the time to explain my reasons. I just hoped Christine didn't have any close relatives among the dead. I recall Shifters and Weres had an unusual high infant mortality rate even in this day and age with the miracles of modern medicine. So perhaps the odds were in my favor at least in that regard.

"Again, they cowardly slew a small handful and thought themselves untouchable in their secret holes." Mai placed both arms on either side of Christine as if to stop her from fleeing and she began sliding slightly to the floor. "And like before, they paid for their error and we razed them and their so called haven to the ground."

"W-we?" Christine repeated.

"Dominick, his maker, and I." Mai said smugly. "Three against a dozen of Weres and Shifters."

"Dominick isn't like that." Christine protested. "He wouldn't kill for fun."

"Dominick the human might not, but Dominick the vampire certainly can and does." Mai clarified.

"You're lying!" Christine said firmly. "I know he wouldn't. It was the Ductor who did all that."

"And what would you know of the Ductor?" Mai asked in mock sweetness.

"It's only because of him that you guys won!" Christine snapped. "You think you vamps are so great and stuff. Then why did you go running to him the second we stopped laying down?"

"Think again!" Mai snarled. "He offered assistance. We did not seek him out."

"You just don't want to admit that it hardly took a scratch and you big tough vamps went pulled out the big guns!" Christine growled. "My uncle Sebastian and the rest of them should be proud that it took an ancient roman general to take them down!"

That was, how kids like to put, when the shit just got real.

Christine had mentioned her father was a Were. That meant it was impossible that her uncle Sebastian was the same that had abducted Mai and I since only the first born in a Were family would be a Were themselves. Unless, ignoring the fact he was just a close friend of her father's, Were females had multiple "firstborns" with multiple males. It made sense if their population was in constant jeopardy.

Either way, that meant two things for certain. I had killed her uncle with my bare hands which given a second chance, I'd do all over again. The second was what had done to Mai. The exact thing I was too late to prevent from happening to HER. Mai had never said anything about not killing him herself and hadn't stopped me, but I knew she'd kill Christine for what her uncle had done.

I had to stop her somehow.

Mai had already moved so swift that Christine appeared to have shot a foot into the air. Mai effortlessly held Christine against the wall by her neck and was slowly tightening her grip. Christine gagged and coughed while she kicked and tried to wrench Mai's hand from her throat. Her eyes went wide in panic and tears ran down her face as she began to flail. Mai was clearly enjoying herself and it evident in the way she ran the tip of her tongue under Christine's jawline and up her cheek. She even went as far to press her body against Christine and toyed with the button of her jeans with her free hand. She was going to pay Christine in kind for what her uncle had done. Or, and I wish I hadn't thought of it, kill her like Sebastion and put her hand right through her.

"She's is mine!" I shouted the first thing that came to mind.

Mai paused, "What?"

She was still choking Christine who looked terrified, but seemed to understand I was trying to help her.

"I said she is mine." I said firmly.

"Am I to care?" Mai demanded.

"You know our rules."

"Not this one, Ductor!" She snarled. "This one is not human."

"She belongs to me!" I roared. "Her life is mine to end. Not yours!"

Mai ignored me and resumed. She must have gotten hungry and made a show of dragging her fangs along Christine's cheek. The lack of air was taking its toll and Christine's flailing was quickly slowing.

"I said get away from her!" I tried to shove her away.

That turned out to be a mistake. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back with Mai snarling down at me and pinning my arms to the ground. I was vaguely aware of Christine gasping and coughing a little to my right. She was safe for the moment, but I could not say the same for me. Mai, despite having centuries to learn to keep herself in check, was close to losing control.

"Do. Not. Interfere." She snarled each word low and full of warning. "She will pay!"

I tried to lift my arms, but they might as well weighed several tons for all I could do. I had no chance of overpowering Mai. So all that was left were what I could say. For Christine's sake, it had better be enough.

"I am calling in my debt." I said.

"What are you talking about?" Mai demanded.

"I saved your life." I reminded her. "You owe me."

"No!" She hissed. "She is our enemy!"

"I killed our enemy!" I snapped. "You were there!"

"And you know what he did!"

"Yes! What _he _did. Not her."

"Why do you defend her?!" Mai snarled.

"The same reason you will not kill her." I growled. "A debt."

Mai seemed to consider that a long moment and all that could be heard was Christine as she recovered from nearly suffocating. Then, just as swiftly, Mai released me with a very deep reluctant growl. I stood as she went to leave. Before I could get my bearings, Mai gave Christine a swift kick to the side. Then, just as I opened my mouth to protest, Mai appeared in front of me and I was suddenly flying. Later, when I replayed the night events in my mind, I would learn Mai had picked me up and tossed me like a rag doll into the kitchen. I felt and heard my bones snap when they collided with counter only to split my split my skull when the force took me up and over the counter to finally be stopped by the refrigerator.

Everything went black from there.

When I woke up, I was aware of a great weight on me. I struggled to open my eyes and saw Christine was straddling me. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and i could feel she was on the verge to start again. She had a massive black and blue bruise that wrapped around her neck, courtesy of Mai. Part of me realized it must be at least an hour later. I also figured that no one had called the police with all of the noise we must have caused. That was the city for you. It would take the sound of automatic gunfire for someone to consider phoning the authorities. After all, who'd want to get involved when you had your own problems o deal with.

It was when Christine moved her hands that I noticed what she was holding. She was desperately clutching a wooden spoon or rather a broken wooden spoon. Perhaps it was the massive blunt force trauma to my skull and my upper spine, but it took me a moment to realize the gravity of the situation.

Christine was holding a wooden stake.

"Please . . ." She pleaded. "Tell me she was lying."

"Lying?" I repeated.

"That you're the fucking Ductor!" She shrieked.

"I — "

"Don't lie to me!" Christine sounded hysterical. "If you're still my friend, you'll tell me the truth!"

"You said yourself." I told her. "He's from ancient Rome."

"That's just bullshit." She wiped her eyes. "Some say he's Roman and others say he's Greek and taught Alexander. They're just rumors." She placed the point of the stake over my left pectoral and stared into my eyes. "Talk!"

Now I could of easily disarmed her, but she had been through enough and god only knew how serious the Mai's kick had been. I also could of let her stake me. I must've told her about my dextrocardia, but she must have forgotten with all that occurred. I decided to tell her everything.

"When I was turned, something happened to me." I began.

"No shit!"

"No, I mean something unusual for vampires." I said. "Unusual, but not unheard of."

"Unusual how?"

"Can you put the stake away?" I asked.

"Not a chance." She growled. "Talk!"

"Alright." I began. "Every now and then, vampires develop special talents. We call them gifts." I motioned to her. "I've heard some can fly while others can communicate with their children telepathically, but they're not limited to just that."

"So you're one of these gifted vamps." Christine concluded. "What can you do?"

"Intelligence."

"What?"

"I might have been smart when I was human, but I was still normal." I explained. "When I was turned, I became exponentially more intelligent. I didn't realize it at first, but I began to notice I could think faster and reason much more easily than before. I could even out think and outsmart far older vampires with centuries of knowledge and experience."

"So . . ." Christine began to comprehend.

"That's why no one had heard of the Ductor until about a year ago." I said. "I don't how or when the rumor started that the Ductor was an ancient Roman or Greek general, but I guess it's because Rome has strong ties to wolves in general and the original myth for werewolves started with Greece. Either way, most seemed to agree that only a very old vampire with over a millennia of experience could deal with Weres and Shifter the way he could."

"So you got a few extra IQ points and thought you could score some points with sheriffs and a bit of cash." She growled. "Innocent kids died! All because of you!"

"That wasn't me." I protested. "At least not in the way you're thinking."

"Then explain!" Christine snarled. "Since I'm just a dumb pest to you."

"Normally, we keep to ourselves as do the Shifters and Weres, but the Mahingan pack thought they could strike a deal with a group of vampires on Long Island." I wondered how she would take that her uncle's pack dealt in drugs, but she demanded the truth. "They went to Ryuu, one of the higher ups in the area, and offered a cut of the profits if they could use his clubs to distribute drugs. Ryuu didn't want to run the risk of police snooping too close and turned them down. Maybe he wasn't as polite as he should have been to them or left something important out, but they didn't take his refusal well and began attacking. It went on for a few months with the pack killing a couple of vampires that were passing through or simply living in his area and burning a couple of clubs." I waited for a moment to let it sink in. "You have to understand that Ryuu is responsible for the safety and secrecy of any vampire who place themselves under his protection. From his point of view, he was dealing with a hostile invading guerrilla force who had superior number and tactics."

"Even if that is true, it doesn't excuse massacring an entire pack including innocent women and children and burning their homes to the ground!"

"Vampires know to look to the future." I said reluctantly. "If he hadn't then ten or twenty years down the road he'd have to deal with another group. Another group with motive and two decades of time to plan, scheme, and gather allies."

"That's what you fucking told him!?" Christine shouted.

"No." I answered. "I put it all together later when I had time to think."

"Then what did you tell him?!"

"He had met my maker at the turn of the century and knew she had a nest of old vampires. Like you said, there aren't that many of us in this part of the country." I tried to sit up, but Christine flinched and pushed the stake harder against my chest and I laid back down. "I had only met Ryuu that night. He told us what had happened and I accidentally suggested he'd try a new approach. I didn't go into the details, but it boiled down to taking out the leaders during the day to confuse and buy him time to regroup."

"What do you mean accidentally?"

"Age is everything to us." I explained. "At hardly a year old, I was barely above a Were in his eyes. I was basically cannon fodder and no right to speak. It would be like a five star general using a plan that grunt only two weeks into boot camp came up with. I muttered something and he demanded I speak, probably to put me in place and teach me to keep my mouth shut. That was when I gave him a strategy that he, or anyone else, couldn't poke holes."

"You honestly expect me to believe you came up with plan in less than an hour while this Ryuu couldn't after months of working at it?!

"A pair of fresh eyes can make all the difference." I said gently. "Either way, it didn't matter because the Weres and Shifters attacked us hardly a couple of hours later. I think they had gotten over confident or heard that Ryuu had contracted outside help. They had numbers and surprise on their side, but only a few realized they had shift back into human bodies to pick up a stake. After the fight, we found that one of them had survived. He refused to talk and Ryuu ordered him killed." I mentally took a breath. "And that's when I tried to stop him. I didn't know it then, but that was what led to Ryuu winning like he did."

"Why did you try to stop him?" Christine asked suspiciously. "You had to of killed a couple of Weres at least in self defense. Why was this guy so different?"

"Because I am different." Then I relented. "Was different. When you become one of us, you go under a massive personality shift. For the lack of a better word, you die. You don't see people as people like you used to. You see them as food and playthings nothing more. You still remember your life before turning and think more or less the same as you had, but you find yourself making decisions that you would have once found wrong or even cruel and enjoying things that normal humans would call living nightmares." I paused for a moment to gather my words. "I'm not sure or why, but it was different with me. Or at least less intense at times. I think my gift let me keep a part of myself or maybe it just something that fades over time and it just took longer for me."

"Get to the point!"

"Long story short, I didn't think it through. Had I just let Ryuu kill him, he would have just used my plan and only the heads of the packs would have been killed. Instead, I stopped him in an ill timed moment of humanity. Ryuu naturally demanded a reason and I had only half second to come up with something."

"So you suggested and helped him kill innocent children and their families!" She snarled.

"No."

"No?"

"I just told him to use him as bait and set a trap so he could take out the pack leaders." I told her. "He's the one who went ahead and ordered everyone killed."

"And you?"

"I was too injured to fight. I spent the rest of night and the next recovering. It wasn't until I turned the TV that I even knew he set the houses on fire and left a note to warn other packs and shift the blame to the pack leader."

"You still helped him!"

"The Weres attacked us first!"

"No they didn't!"

"They attacked Ryuu because he turned down their offer to use his clubs to sell drugs." I growled. "He didn't seek them out. They came to him."

"That doesn't justify killing children!"

"I've never harmed a child. As a human or a vampire!"

"You still helped!"

"You remember that school shooting that happened three years after we graduated? Back in '89?" I asked. "The Stockton schoolyard shooting?"

"What dose that have to with anything?"

" Are you honestly telling me that Patrick Purdy wasn't to blame and they should have went after who sold him the rifle?" I demanded. "Yes. I helped Ryuu. I gave him a plan, but he's the one who put into motion. My plan was to take a few key individuals out and force a surrender. You can't blame me if Ryuu went with the scorched earth approach. I don't approve of what he did then and I still don't approve, but no matter what I do or don't I can't change what he did."

"And my uncle?!" She snarled. "I know for sure he survived. He came to live us with for a few weeks after your little chat with Ryuu. He was demanding we start a war. Unite the packs and take out every single vampire in the state!" She leaned harder and the stake was beginning to pierce my skin. "They turned him down because they didn't to risk another massacre. Even then, people were whispering about you. How some sheriff called for help and the next thing anyone knows is that the entire Mahingan is killed in a single night!"

"If you're uncle is the same Sebastien Mae and I knew, then he is dead." I said flatly. "He has been for months now. Along with any allies he managed to cobble together."

"How?"

"I killed him."

Christine merely froze at my confession. Perhaps she had convinced herself that he was off somewhere cooling off or piecing his life back together. After all, no body had been found or reported. Then again, I'd made sure that was impossible.

"He survives Ryuu's massacre of his wife and kids and you just kill him!" I could tell that Christine was seconds away from pushing all her weight onto the stake and sinking it into where my heart should be. "How?!"

"I'm telling you, Christine, you don't want the details." I warned. "Just know that I killed him and leave it at that."

"Hrrrrrwg?" She growled through bared teeth and I could feel she was fighting the urge to shift and rip me to pieces.

"I stabbed him with a sword, kicked him so I shattered his teeth and jaw, literally put my arm through and ripped off his genitals, before having my maker drain him dry." Then I added. "And I'm telling you, if it's the last thing I say, he deserved worse."

That was when Christine had all she could take and did something that I did not expect to her do. Up to that point, I had never seen her so much as hit someone with any real feeling for it. Sure she once shoved Brian when he started dating another girl who was willing to put out, but that was worst and most violent I had seen her.

So imagine my shock when she went ahead and shove the stake through my chest.

I won't lie and say it was painless, but I was so surprised that it took me a moment to realize she had staked me and yanked the stake out to do it again. Then, with her fury reeling in my mind, I was angry. I had saved her life twice, both times at the risk my own life. Regardless of her relationship to Sebastian, I deserved to explain my actions. On second thought, I did not. With the exception of two — my first meal and that Muttontown cop Jefferson — there was not a human life that I had taken that did not deserve it on some level. Who knew how many women, vampire or otherwise, Sebastian had entertained over his lifetime. My only regret was that his death was not slow enough for my liking.

With an angry snarl, I sat up in the blink of an eye. The next thing Christine knew, she was slammed back into the refrigerator and her hands held together and pinned over her head. Even with the blood that Sally had given me, I was hungry and the damage I no doubt sustained at Mae's hand only made it worst. So naturally, once Christine was immobilized, I lunged at her neck.

On any other occasion that would have been the end of it, but I had had Christine's blood. I could feel her emotion almost as if they were my own and at the moment she was terrified. She was terrified of me. Of me!

I stopped just as my fangs tickled her neck and pulled back. She was looking away and her eyes were shut tight. She was even trembling. Even if a human was as close as I was they would not be able to see the slightest of tremors in her body, but I could see and even feel it against my skin.

I plucked the stake from my her hand and stared down at my blood staining the wood. It would be so easy to give a taste of her own medicine or knock her out and give her to Mae, but mentally sighed and resigned myself to the inevitable. She had given me hope when it mattered. Her friendship was soothing balm to any otherwise painful and excruciating existence. I had hoped she could be again, but life had other plans.

I waited until she opened her eyes, but I refrained from using my glamor.

"Here's is what is going to happen." I told her. "You're going to leave and go home. Go back to what you were doing when you thought I was dead. Become a doctor. Find someone who loves you and start a family." I said firmly. "Forget you ever saw me."

"I — " She began

"After you leave, I'm going to pack some clothes and find a safe place to sleep for the next couple of nights." I continued. "From there, I'm going to come back with a small army to kill any possible attackers. Then I'm going to set up traps and alarms so if I'm ever attacked during the day, whomever tries it will need an army the size of Russia just to get past the lobby." I paused to see if she would speak and went on when she didn't. "And for the sake of peace, for both of our kind, do not tell anyone who I am. If the Weres learn the truth they won't be afraid anymore and attack vampires again who will, in response, call me in to finish it like Hitler tried with the Jews." I tried to keep my voice devoid of emotion. "I'll refuse at first and be forced to go into hiding and no one can hide forever. If they do catch me, it'll be years of torture until I do what they want which will end with my death along with every Were and Shifter. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"You can tell them you met the Ductor. You won't exactly be dishonest." I said. "Just let them know that as long they keep to themselves or, barring that, do not attack us without provocation, they have nothing to fear. Just carry on with whatever they were doing before all of this happened." I swallowed hard. "Can you do that?"

Again, she nodded.

"Good." I stepped away and motioned like a butler to the door. "Now get out. I'm not completely sure if Mae is waiting for you or even still in the building, but you should be able to survive until sunrise. Sunrise is only a couple of hours away and I doubt she'd want to take the risk."

"Should . . .?" Christine's voice was barely a whisper.

"She'd want to take her time and then she'd have to make it look like a human killed you and not a vampire so not to spark another fight." I said. "Or scatter you in pieces all over the state. Of course the simple thing would be the Hudson or New York Bay on the ferry to Staten Island."

"P-pieces?"

I know I was probably not doing her any favors by putting those images in her head, but whatever made her leave and never return was worth it. She, like family if I returned to them, would be in constant danger if she stayed with me. Even if we never grew past friends, she would be putting her life and future in jeopardy. All for what? An occasional friendly dinner or a night on the town ? Or even a casual drunken roll in the hay in the coming years? No. It was better for the both of us in the long run for her to go on with her life before she learned I wasn't as dead as she thought.

"Just go." I said. "Please. Before I can come up with a reason not to let you."

And that was it. Without another word, she left. She did not run or hurry in anyway, but she did not look back either as she quietly closed the door behind her. I rushed to the door and locked both the deadbolt and lock in the knob before securing the chain. I spent the next minute piling any furniture that wasn't bolted to the floor in front of the door.

It was I when turned back and saw my cane on the ground. It was then it came to me, all to well after the fact. I fell to me knees and ignored the blood pooling at the edge of my vision.

I could of used it to kill Mae when she was occupied with Christine. One quick swing and — Micheal would hunt me down to the ends of the earth no matter the cost and he'd have near infinite resources to do it. I might go with Christine and beg shelter from her father's pack. No that wouldn't work. One slip up from Christine, if she forgave me, and I'd have to deal with the vampires and Weres of New York City. I could have used the silver edge to get Mae to back off and . . . and. She'd just use her superior speed and strength to either kill me or injury me severely enough that I would be helpless long enough to watch Christine die for what her uncle had done. More scenario came to me each one more ludicrous than the last.

"ARRHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I howled.

There had to have been a way. I was given the gift that most vampires had to wait centuries to acquire. All I had to was use it. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what thoughts or strategies I conjured, none solved my dilemma.

Then the strangest thing happened to me.

_HER _words echoed in my head.

_Dominus, Dominor, Dominare. Do you understand? Your very name means to dominate to and control._

_Your perspicacious mind, however technically dead, was a natural part of you and continues to be so. Now unhindered by human limits and emotions._

_ The general sometimes commands soldiers older than himself._

Then I remembered what I said to Abraham. I had in fact been bluffing, but seemed to have a new meaning now.

_Are you capable of visualizing each and every variable, the possibility of weapons or strategies, and forming a flawless counter to all of them?_

Like when a bat crashed through a window of Bruce Wayne's study, I realized what I had to do. I had been given a gift. No, not a gift. A weapon. However that weapon was nothing more than a lump of metal. I could cave someone's skull with enough force, but I could forge that lump into something far more deadly that everyone would fear be it human, Were, or vampire.

I had to become the Ductor.

"Rrow?"

I looked to see Tux nuzzling my wrist.

"I'm fine." I picked her up and began scratching behind he ears. "I realized it's time for a change."

"Rrow!"

"Oh, I don't know." She began to purr in my lap as I sat in the middle of the room. "Me."

From then on, for the next ten months, I sought and piled information and knowledge like countries preparing for war stockpiled weapons and supplies. I devoured books on every conceivable subject no matter how obscure or seemingly useless. I consumed textbooks on Astronomy the wonders of the universe. I engrossed myself in biology text and documentaries to see how life had adapted over millions of years. I learned, through a few measly beginner college textbooks, how to make acids and bases from common household cleaners. When I reached engineering and all it entailed, I began to develop plans for weapons. I never built them, but I knew they might become useful in the coming years.

I also studied history and art. I studied and learned tactics from Alexander The Great to Zulu. Political tricks such as the ones used during by Augustus and Julius Caesar during their times and by the English during the War of the Roses. Naturally, I read Sun Tzu's Art of War. For the sake of keeping a balanced mind, and because I had always been curious, I took up painting. I was no Da Vinci, but I realized I had a slight talent for it. It might be a decade or three before any of my work was gallery worthy, and possibly centuries for a museum, but I found it enjoyable and continued with it along with my violin practice.

Of course, all knowledge in the world wouldn't help anyone if you could remember and apply. That is where my Sanctum Sanctorum came into play. The Method of loci (plural of Latin locus for or location), is a mnemonic device adopted in ancient Roman and Greek rhetorical treatises. In layman's term, it was a method of memory enhancement which uses visualization to organize and recall information. Truth be told, it had very little to do with brain structure or intelligence, but more to do with a technique of using regions of the brain that have to do with spatial learning. It is also known as the "Journey Method," used for storing lists of related items, or the "Roman Room" technique, which is most effective for storing unrelated information.

In short, whenever I entered my Sanctum Sanctorum I was doing the same any normal person did in any library in the country. The onyl differences were that it was all in my mind and the organization system was all my own. For example, when I took the path past the statues of Cicero and Scipio, famous Roman figures, I knew I'd find all the information I possesed pertaining to ancient rome whereas in plain library a simple written sign would be enough for anyone to navigate.

It would become far more common knowledge once the BBC modernized Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work with Sherlock.

* * *

><p>I was shocked from my mental recall when I heard Tux screeching and hissing from the living room.<p>

I leapt from the water and reached the living room before any water hit the floor. What I saw shocked me. The Man from Memphis AKA Elvis Presly was standing in my living room and holding a flailing Tux by the scruff of her neck. He was incredibly pale and his skin glowed slightly in the light. So that explain the rumors that he wasn't truly dead. He was dead, just in the traditional sense.

He brought Tux to his mouth, fangs glistening in the light.

I charged, snatching up my sword from its spot leaning in the hallway entrance, and attacked.


	6. Looking The Part

I had not drawn the blade, I realized mid attack.

It was just as well. A quick and brutal thrust through the heart would eliminate any need for a second strike. It would be just in time before a fang so much as tickled Tux's fur. Just as the tip, or ferrule, of the cane was a hairsbreadth from him, his gaze switched from Tux to me and his free arm moved to catch my cane. Since I was using my vampiric speed that told me was older and more than my match as far as speed was concerned. That roughly the same time the thought I'd better think of something to compensate. Just before the thought that I really should have followed through with my crossbow security device.

Then something intervened, or rather someone.

I saw something blur past me hardly a millisecond before I felt a hand grip my wrist firmly and halt my attack instantly. Simultaneously, I saw a hand gently, but quickly, snatch Tux from the intruder's hand. We both froze and looked to see Kimberly Yamada looking bored and annoyed at the pair of us, ignoring Tux's hissing and screeching.

"Bubba?" Kim said sounding mildly annoyed. "Remember how I said to knock to be polite?"

"Yes'm!" replied the intruder who now had a name. "But I smelled a cat and I'm mighty thirsty."

"Dominick, I take it this creature is important to you?" Kim rolled her eyes at Bubba. "Though I cannot fathom why."

"Yes." I barked. "Now put her down!"

Kim narrowed her eyes at me, no doubt disliking my commanding tone, but released her grip. Tux fell to the floor and took off like a rocket towards my room. Bubba watched with hungry eyes and I quickly rushed to shut the door.

"Kim," I growled. "Is there a reason you're here?"

"Yes."

"Give me a second to get some clothes on."

I didn't bother waiting for her response and reentered the bathroom. I drained the tub and quickly toweled off before throwing on a pair of jeans and a black tank-top. I turned off the radio and emerged barefoot. I walked to the living room and I knew it was going to be a long night.

Kim was comfortably sitting in my recliner running her hands along the hand rests, looking pleased at the quality of the leather. She was wearing a light purple shoulder padded top, fishnet tights, and knee-high black boots. Her hair lacked any clips or barrettes and hung loose to her shoulder, but tucked behind her ear to show off her gold hoop earrings.

Next to her were several large suitcases in a neat pile. I was about to ask when Bubba entered carrying a huge locked trunk. It was an old model made of dark polished wood with bronze metal corners. I noticed three thin silver chains wrapping around it with two chains doing the same length wise and a six padlock on the where the chains met. Bubba must be strong even by vampire standards because he showed no sign of effort as he held it out at arm's length.

I was certain Bubba was the and only Elvis Presley, the supposedly late king of rock and roll. He was husky which made sense since Elvis had put on a few towards the end of his life and he looked to have been turned somewhere in his late thirties or very early forties. I mentally added some color to his pale skin and a few lines. His thick southern accent was spot on from what I'd heard in old film and concert clips.

It would have been easier if he wore any of the clothing he used on stage, like his white eagle motif he wore in '73 from his Aloha from Hawaii broadcast, but it sadly wasn't the case. He wore a red and black Grunge-style flannel shirt over a plain blue t-shirt that growing rapidly in popularity recently, a pair of acid wash denim jeans, and worn black combat boots.

The more I thought about it, the more I was certain that The King was bringing up Kim's luggage like a common bellboy. It would explain the sightings over the years and how millions believed he had not truly died but merely faked his death. Not to mention that they had reopened his autopsy case earlier in the year in Memphis so if this was really him, then it only made sense he got as far as he could. At least in the city people would think he was just an impersonator. Times Square was riddled with them.

"Where is Wilhelmina?" Kim asked suddenly.

"Hi, Dom. Sorry for showing up without calling, bargaining in without knocking, and scaring your pet. This is Bubba." I responded. "No harm done, Kim. Nice to meet you, Bubba. It's been a long time since we last saw each other, Kim. Anything new?"

"What?" Kim blinked.

"Why are you here?" I asked, skipping to the point.

"I require a new home." Kim motioned to the pile of suitcases. "Finding a new nest can be difficult even at best. Seeing as our makers are close allies and my nest extended its hospitality to you, I thought it only fair if your nest did the same for me."

"Uh-huh?" I said skeptically. "And you?"

"Me?" Bubba pointed to himself.

"Planning a comeback tour?"

"Come . . . back . . . tour?" He repeated.

"It was a joke." I told him. "You know because you're obviously El — "

Kim appeared in front of me and covered my mouth with one hand and held me tight against with her free hand on the back of my head.

"Do not call him that." Kim warned. "Yes, he is who you think he is, but his turning was not an easy one. One of us was working in the morgue that night and was a fan. He is not altogether there, mentally. Just call him Bubba. He gets very upset whenever someone calls him by his old name. Do you understand?"

I nodded and she released me.

"So, Bubba, what are you doing on this side of the Mason-Dixon line?"

"Huh?"

"What brings you this far north?" I simplified. "Got bored of Tennessee?"

"Yes'm!" Bubba nodded. "I think I've been here before and I think I remember having fun here too." He licked his lips. "Lots of cats too."

I raised an eyebrow and looked to Kim.

"He likes to wander every now and then." Kim said lazily. "Normally he is passed between the southern kingdoms of Tennessee, Louisiana, and Mississippi. When he does, it sometimes results in a sighting which leads to a slew of rumors and problems." She picked a stack of papers and flipped through them without really looking. "We found him singing at Mulcahy's Open Mic Nite in Wantagh."

"I went there once." I recalled. "I didn't know Mulcahy's was vampire owned."

"It's not." Kim set the stack of papers down. "Does Wilhelmina normally take long hunts?"

"She is not here." I told her.

"I can see that." Kim frowned. "Which is why I asked where she was."

"I mean she's not living here anymore." I explained. "She hasn't since last November."

"What of the rest of the nest?" Kim asked looking surprisingly calm. "Doyle, Adrian, and Regina?"

"They all left before her. Doyle said some old woman noticed he hadn't aged since he moved in and left. Adrian disappeared soon after him without a word. Regina said goodbye and left a few days later."

"But you haven't even reached a decade in age." Kim said sounding confused. "Gift or not you are still far too young to have learned what is nessassary to survive in our world. It is nigh impossible you shall live to see half a century.""

"You know you can tell me the truth." I mocked. "No need to sugarcoat."

"How can you joke about this?" Kim demanded.

"You know what they say." I shrugged. "Dying is easy. Comedy is hard, but seeing as I already died . . ."

"So how long have you been alone?" Kim asked.

"About a year now."

"And you have had no contact with any of your old nestmates? No others of our kind seeking refuge or passing through?"

"No. Just me and Tux." I pointed behind me. "The cat Bubba tried to eat."

"And several boxes of paper and pencils." Kim looked up and seemed to be taken aback for a moment. "Not to mention many cans of paint."

"Not as many as you think." I looked up and asked proudly. "So what do you think?"

I decided on Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel, but not the entire thing and neither was it an exact copy. I drew inspiration from The Creation of Adam. If you are unfamilar with his work, it is the fresco where God is depicted as an elderly white-bearded man wrapped in a swirling cloak while Adam, on the lower left, is completely nude. God's right arm is outstretched to impart the spark of life from his own finger into that of Adam, whose left arm is extended in a pose mirroring God's, a reminder that man is created in the image and likeness of God.

I had only changed two things. One was more significant than the other. First, the "God" character was a young nude woman with long flowing copper colored hair carefully obscuring her nudity. I had more or less stolen from Botticelli's depiction of Aphrodite with some significant alterations. For Adam, I kept him more or less the same since I could not copy Michelangelo's original style. The second thing was the of of the transitional; white backdrop, both God and Adam sat against the night sky as the stars and planet swirled in patterns of white and yellow

"Impressive, but clearly derivative of the early fourteenth century." Kim said flatly. "I was not aware you were an artist."

"I wasn't." I shurgged. "But we all have to find ways to pass time."

"But all of these are not simply drawings." Kim motioned to the proverbial mountain of paper strewn about the room.

"There are a few, but they're in my room. I had to learn draw before I could paint. It started off by copying some of Stan Lee's work and the next thing I knew I had written an entire comic book series." I glanced back at my room for a moment where a fairly large box sat filled with my own version of the Amazing Spiderman. "I still haven't come up with a name. I was toying the idea of Superior Spider-Man or Ultimate Spider-man." I turned back to Kim. "For the most part, it's a mix of finished and unfinished music and songs I've composed along with a few film scripts and some seasons of shows for televisions. A lot of it is unfinished, but I got all the time in the world. It's not like anyone is ever going to see it."

"So you have not left your nest in the entire year since your maker left?" Kim looked as if she wasn't sure if she was impressed or fully of pity. "Not even to hunt?"

"I don't need to hunt anymore." I motioned to refrigerator. "In exchange for dealing with the Shifters and Weres that had discovered her, Sally supplies me with blood from Bellevue." I smiled as I recalled how exactly I did it. "I really wish I could have seen on the look on their face."

"What are you talking about?" Kim demanded.

"Somehow some Weres and Shifter found out Sally, the corner at Bellevue, was a vampire and began harassing her." I shrugged. "Apparently, Matthew's agreement with the Weres of the city included no unprovoked attacks."

"So she calls on you."

"Yes." I sank into a chair. "Luckily for her, I'd been looking for a way to test the Broadway Cast-Offs."

"Broadway Cast-Offs?" Bubba repeated,looking confused. "They second string actors or sumthin'?"

"In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories, the main character had a group of street urchins, led by an older boy called Wiggins, who he paid a shilling per day with a guinea prize for a vital clue, to collect data for his investigations. I did the same with homeless scattered around the city." I explained. "At first I did it to find my Maker, but I gave up and figured it was a wasted effort. It could be centuries before she decides to return to the city. Originally, they did not extend outside of Manhattan, but now they span the whole city."

"Sounds real complicated." Bubba remarked.

"And how do these Cast-Offs help you against the two natured?" Kim ask

"Sun Tzu wrote that the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting." I said proudly. "Like Holmes in A Study In Scarlet, they're purely for information gathering. Sally gave me a name of their leader and had them observe for a day or two. This city is full of homeless vagrants who everyone does their best to ignore so they could set up shop across a building and no one would really notice."

"Sun Tzu." Kim said sounding mildly impressed. "One of the few humans who actually had some intelligence. Go on."

"Long story short, one of my Cast-Offs heard one of their leader's children wanted some popular toy set called My Little Pony." I waved a hand dismissively. "From what I remember seeing in commercials in the 80's, they;re just toy horses painted strangely for little girls. Anyway, he heard the leader say they couldn't afford it. Apparently, he's just a janitor at the hospital."

"How is this important?"

"I had Sally purchase the toy and sign her name on the card along with the phrase, The Ductor and I heard you like ponies. Have a happy birthday and many more." I purposely left it was an empty bluff, but neither Kim or the Shifter leader needed to know that.

"Clever." Kim smirked.

"Begin by seizing something which your opponent holds dear; then he will be amenable to your will." I returned the smirk. "I'm starting to think I would gotten along great with him. A day later all the Shifter leader put for a transfer and the Were leaders give Sally a wide berth. In exchange, Sally supplies me with blood and . . ." I paused. "Oh, I forgot about him."

"Excuse me?" Kim asked.

I rushed to the coffee table in front from of her and began sifting through the several stack of papers. Even when using my vampiric speed took a minute. Truth be told, I had been meaning to sort and find a place for them, but I kept getting distracted by my next project. Perhaps I simply did not want to waste precocious moonlight on something so tedious and unimportant which lead to procrastinating and finding excuses to put it off.

"There you are!" I cried as I held up a single page. "I hope you didn't get bored waiting."

"Um, why are ya baby talkin' that paper?" Bubba asked.

"My question exactly." Kim said.

I glanced at the calender and frowned. "It's winter out, right?"

"What?"

"Apparently, I've ignored my calender since April, but night seems to last for a bit like it does during Winter." I switch my gaze between the two for an answer. "Well?"

"It's December fourteenth." Kim said sounding annoyed.

"That means I'll need a coat to blend in." I muttered to myself as I folded the paper and slipped it into my backpocket. "Good thing Barnabé finished it last week. Or was it last month?"

"Have you gone mad?" Kim asked.

"Think I'm giving Bubba a run for his money?" I smirked.

"You makin' fun of me?" Bubba asked.

"No."

"Okay."

I looked to the door and mentally kicked myself. Hanging right where I had left was my greatcoat on the coat rack. Well, actually my original greatcoat that Barnabé fashioned for me was draped over a desk chair in my room. After the incident with Christine, and knowing my strength and speed could only go so far, I had Barnabé make a special coat.

This coat was more of thick duster that was slit up the back to hip level. That was due to the three layers of material. The outer shell was composed of hand stitched black Corinthian leather. The interior was a medium thick layer of tanned and supple rawhide. Between the leather and rawhide was the layer that made the entire coat weigh an inhumane sixty-five pounds. It was layer of chain mail.

I had gotten the idea when I visited a butcher for Tux's dinner. I noticed the butcher, a middle aged Italian man in Astoria, wore a glove out of the dark ages. I asked and he told me that mail is used as protective clothing for butchers against meat-packing equipment. He explained that workers may wear up to eight pounds mail under their white coats and that butchers also commonly wear a single mail glove to protect themselves from self-inflicted injury while cutting meat.

It was not authentic chain mail from the fourteenth century that ran through the coat, but a mix of modern mail that butchers used and the kind scubadivers used to protect against shark attacks.

To my surprise, Barnabé did begrudge me for such a daunting task. In fact, he seemed to relish the challenge. I figured he was bored and enjoyed the change in routine. After all, he made a bespoke suit and greatcoat in a single night without a single mistake. Even with all of his skill, and probably two herds worth of cows in leather alone, it still took him the better part of two months to complete it.

Technically, there was a fourth layer, but that was just the silk lining.

"Hmm." I threw on the coat and rolled my shoulders. "Not a single jingle. Not bad, Barnabé."

"Where are you going?" Kim stood.

"Business meeting." I said nonchalantly as I picked up a multicolored scarf and wrapped it around my neck under the coat and popped the collar. I snatched a black fedora from the coat rack and placed on my head. "Up in Chelsea on West Thirty-Third between Tenth and Eleventh Avenue."

"Chelsea?"

"If you're going to live in the city, you'd better learn the neighborhoods and streets." I picked up sword and sheathed before slipping the whole thing into a secret pocket in the coat that ran along my spine. "For example, if you get lost and need to take a cab just tell him Soho, Broadway and Walker."

"That will not necessary." Kim said. "Not tonight at least. I will be joining you."

"Really?" I paused. "You're not staying?"

"No." She said matter of fact. "I've been hearing how there is always something exciting if one only looks for it."

"You coming too, Bubba?" I asked.

"No." Kim answered for him. "He is too recognizable."

"Alright. Then give me a moment."

I walked to the my room and closed the door behind me. I looked around for Tux and caught the unmistakable scent of fear. I puckered my lips and made a kissing noise. It was the sound I made when I wanted Tux to come out from wherever she was hiding. Normally, she'd be hiding on her own accord and not due to nearly being eaten.

Tux hesitantly stuck her head out from under the bed, cautiously looking for any sign of danger. I knelt and held out my hand all the while making the same noise. It took a moment and some gentle coaxing, but she allowed me to scoop her up and cradle against me. I stood and scratched behind her ears to ease her shivering. I walked out of my room and she began to mew, hiss, and pine when she caught sight of Bubba again. She tried to wriggle free, but I held her tight.

"Kim," I said. "Would you please get the door for me?"

She did without a word and we stepped into the hall. Half a beat later, I heard Bubba lock the deadbolt and hooked the chain. I positioned Tux so I held her with one arm and knocked on the adjacent apartment.

"Hello?" Dr. Sarah Benz said.

"Hello, Sarah." I smiled gently. "Remember me?"

"Sure, I remember you, Dominick." She smiled down at Tux. "Is that who I think it is?"

"This is Tux." I nodded. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I'm having a guest over who is allergic. Do you think you could watch her until I come to get tomorrow night?" I smiled sweetly and stared into her eyes. "If you're not too busy."

"Sure thing. Whatever you say." She shook head to clear it and stopped my glamor. "Uh, I mean alright." She took Tux into her arms and scratched behind her ears the way she liked. "Anything I need to know?"

"Just that she's a very picky eater and needy at times." I said. "But I'll take care of the food issue when I pick her up tomorrow night."

"Okay." She smiled.

"Thank you." I tipped my hat with a polite smile.

Sarah closed the door as I turned and Kim followed me to the elevator without a word. She did not say word the entire elevator down. If fact, she kept quiet until I hailed a taxi. I saw that I was correct to don my coat, scarf, and hat. It must have snowed heavily during the day because there was slush made of partially melted snow and salt. Some of shops and deli had multicolored awning with melting snow while those without had employees shoveling in front wearing thick coats and gloves. Little white puffs escaped from mouths and noses whenever a human breathed or spoke.

"Thirty-Third." I told the driver as I slide to the far side so Kim could enter. "Between Tenth and Eleventh."

The driver nodded and took off once Kim closed the door.

"Where are we going?" Kim asked.

"Last Rites." I said. "It's a tattoo parlor."

"Why?"

"Business."

"You purchased a tattoo parlor?"

"No." I explained. "Sally passed along a request from the owner. I told her I would give it a try, but promised nothing."

"What was the request?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"Why?"

"I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Kim accepted this and we resumed the rest of ride in silence. I used the time to contemplate a reasonable fee, provided nothing went wrong. Truth be told, even with Ryuu's and Matthew's payment combined with the suitcase that SHE had left me, my funds were starting to dip low. Not so low that i was desperate for another skirmish with the Weres to break out, but significant enough that I had no illusions of sailing around the world in a diamond and ruby encrusted platinum plated yacht. At least not anywhere in the near future, but I did have time on my side.

We reached the corner of West Thirty-Third Street and Tenth Avenue hardly twenty-minutes later. We both exited and I paid the driver along with a nice tip. We silently both walked west towards Eleventh Avenue. We passed a sports bar filled with drunk humans, mostly men, shouting insults and cheering at countless televisions screens. The our noses were assaulted by the smell of fried food upon passing a McDonald's. After passing an alley with homeless person, or something of equal size, rummaging through a dumpster, we stopped in front of Last Rites.

There were large windows on either side of the door each with a bright flashing neon sign. The word Last flashed and buzzed in dark red on the left window a second before Rites did the same. On the door was one of those generic "Come in, We're Open/ Sorry, We're Closed" signs with the parlor's hours posted below.

As we entered, a bell rang. It appeared to be not significant;y different than a barber shop. In fact, I was certain it had been one before it was converted. The chairs were the same kind that were bolted to the ground and rose and fell by working the pedal on the base. There were four in total on either side of the parlor and each sat in front of station with various tools that looked strange to me and large mirriors. Running along permeter of the mirrors were various tattoo designs, many of them associated with death in some form. The entire place smelled faintly of old blood and very strong cleaning chemicals, but I did catch the faint hint of vampire.

A human entered from behind a curtain that separated the parlor from an employee only section in the rear. He looked what I guess was a typical tough ex-con was supposed to look like, on television at any rate. He had a shaved head with stud in his left ear. He was large and very muscular which he boasted by wearing a Metallica T-shirt with the sleeves ripped from it. I also suppose the shirt was to display the tattoos that ran down from his shoulders to his wrists. If I had to guess his ethnicity, I would guess some form of Hispanic, but it was mostly due to his rich tanned skin in the middle of winter.

"Can I help you?" He asked with a deep voice. "Name's Dwayne."

"I'm here to see the owner." I said.

"I am the owner." Dwayne told me.

"The real owner." I corrected. "The nocturnal one."

"No need to guard your words here, brother." said a vampire as emerged from behind the curtain. "Patronage is not doing particularly well this night and my Dwayne knows of our kind."

The vampire, presumably the true owner, was black. He was neither tall nor short and had an average build and brown eye. His black hair had been cut short when he was turned, but it looked thick like he had the very beginnings of an afro. He must had just shaved, like I had, because his skin appeared incredibly smooth. Physically there was nothing separating him from any of the humans in the city. Then again, it could be said the same for me and Kim. He wore a white and black checkered collared shirt tucked into a pair of pressed brown pants with a simple black tie. His shoes were black loafers that matched the an old worn black leather jacket.

"I am John. John Keter."" the vampire inclined his head slightly. "May I ask who are you?"

"_Ave, John_." I clenched my right fist over where my heart should be before holding it up and out to my right so I formed a right angle with my elbow. "_Bonum est extrema faciem ._" I motioned to Kim. "_Kim est, de nido_ ."

Kim said nothing, but smiled to herself and I had the feeling she knew what I was doing. It was the same case as it was when I went to meet Matthew for the first time. There was no rule among our kind about one assuming the age of another. Since the Weres had been kind enough to supply me with a back story, that of being an ancient Roman, I thought that I might as well embrace it. All it would take is to speak Latin accurately, which I already could, like pronouncing all my V's like W's and all my C's like hard K's. For example, Ave was pronounced similarly to the English word away. I also had be careful and leave any answers vague and technically true.

"Ah, Sally mentioned you might visit." John inclined his head again. "It is an honor to meet you, Ductor. " He motioned to Dwayne to take my hat and coat. "Am I right to think that you have solved my problem?"

"I might have, but I cannot guarantee any results." Dwayne buckled slightly under the weight of my coat. "Oh, sorry about that."

"No worries." Dwayne assured

"My apologies." John said. "But if my rudimentary grasp of Spanish is any help, you are Kim and are part of the Ductor's nest?"

"Yes." Kim confirmed.

"John, do you have place where we can talk?" I removed slip of paper from my back pocket. "This might take some time."

"Yes. My office is in the back." He turned and walked behind the curtain. "This way."

It was a typical office. There was a desk with an old rolling chair. A metal file cabinet was tucked in the corner. Some boxes sat on top of the cabinet and assumed they were surplus needles or other tools used for tattoos.

"Now please," John cleared the desk of a few papers. "What do you have to show me."

I unfolded the slip of paper and laid it flat on the desk. To those unfamiliar with high school chemistry, or chemistry in general, would just see a bunch of hexagons and half finished hexagons connected by singles either abover or below each other labels with letters and numbers like H2O and CO2. In truth is was a formula. These shapes were called skeleton formulas. It's a short hand way of representing a molecule with ;ines for single bonds, double lines for double bonds. It's assumed that each intersection point of the line segments is a molecule, usually carbon, but you can have structures that are not consisting of carbon atoms, these are called heteroatoms and you represent them by noting the symbol for the atom.

I learned all of this several high school and college level chemistry textbooks. I also learned that when you combined a vampire's acute eyesight and the highest magnification on a common microscope, you could see what professionals saw with millions upon millions of funding.

"Before I go on, I wish to point out that this simply shows promise." I warned. "I cannot guarantee any results."

"I have been attempting to solve this problem for the last century since my maker taught me the techniques from his the people, the Maori." John said. "Any light you can shed will be of great help."

"I do not understand." Kim said. "What problem?"

"Our blood." I pointed to the paper.

"Meaning?"

"A tattoo is nothing more than a decorative scar. Due to the extensive healing that our blood possesses, it's impossible for the ink to enter and stay in the skin. The wound simply heals and pushes the ink to the surface of the skin." I smiled. "At least that was the case until I threw in my two cents."

"Are you insane?!" Kim looked astonished. "If you've discovered how to stop or even hinder our healing, it is a discovery you must never share! Imagine if our enemies — "

"Relax." I told her. "They already know."

"What?!" She hissed low.

"If by our enemies you mean the Weres, then they already know about it and share the same weakness."

"Silver?" John asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "After doing some tests and seeing how our blood reacts to silver under a microscope, silver is the only material that inflicts damage that is noticeably slower when compared to other metals like iron, steel, or gold."

"If you're suggesting simply using a silver needle, it will result in silver poisoning for any vampire." John explained. "That was my first answer. The vampires I tested on were fortunate their makers were still walking the earth."

"Exactly what I thought." I smiled slyly. "But only if the entire needle is composed of silver. A regular needle that only is ten percent silver has no risk of poisoning, but any wounds inflicted by it, like the ones received when getting tattooed, will be slow to heal. Well, slower anyway."

"So that's it?" Kim asked. "Less silver?"

"Oh not at all." I held a finger up. "That's just part one. You still have to deal with our bodies rejecting any foreign substances, like ink. It'll just get pushed out."

"Pushed out?"

"You shoot a human with a gun and their bodies will heal around the bullet if it's not removed. Provided they survive." I motioned to us. "But our bodies' healing is far more aggressive and extensive. The bullet, or any object really, is simply pushed by the healing tissue until it is outside the body."

"What is your suggestion to counteract this?" John asked.

"This!" I pointed to a group of hexagons at the very top of the page. "I won't bore you with a chemistry lesson, but this the chemical make up of vampire blood." I point to the group below the first. "And this is for regular human blood. O negative to be exact. I chose O negative because it is the universal donor and its flexibility could be useful."

"How does this help?" Kim tilted her head the shapes and frowned.

"I sense he is close to revealing." John looked impressed, but lost.

"Our bodies can only accept and process two kinds of blood." I explained. "Human and vampire. However, no vampire can feed upon themselves." I pointed to the third group of hexagons. "Which means anything not either, like ink of any kind, will simply be rejected and expelled." I point to fourth and final group which was combination of the three previous groups. "Based on all that, I hypothesized that the correct mixture of ink, O negative human blood, and the receiving vampire's blood should work."

"How so?" John

"The mixture of human blood and the vampire's own should confuse the body long enough to accept the ink into the skin." I explained. "From there, the body will absorb the blood. However it will be unsure, for the lack of a better word, of what to do about the ink since traces of human blood, which is the body's sustenance, and vampire blood, which the body recognizes as its own, still reside in it." I held up two hands. "It's a paradox. On one hand it's not blood so it must be expelled, but on the other it's blood so it must be allowed to enter." I couldn't help, but smile at my brilliance. "Like Hamlet, To be or not to be. That is the question."

"So because the body is unsure of how to proceed, it will simply ignore the ink and allow it to reside where it is deposited in the skin." John concluded.

"Which is what you desire in the first place." I said.

"_Watashi wa sore o shinjiru koto ga dekinai_." Kim said to herself.

"I can't guarantee anything." I repeated. "But if you puncture the skin with the needle that is ten percent silver before injecting the ink mixed with the blood directly afterward, it should work."

"This all well and impressive. On paper at least." John looked up from said paper. "But can you test this?"

"That depends." i said.

"On?" John asked.

"How long it takes me to sketch out the designs I want." I winked. "Which won't be long once you hand me a pen and paper."

"One moment." John said. "I do not possess the special needle you claim we require. One made of ten percent silver."

"Oh that." I motioned outside. "I made a few in my nest to get you started. They're in my coat." I removed another slip of paper from a pocket. "This is Sally's number. Call her and tell her you require syringes and vials used to remove blood. Make sure to mention me and I'll send a human to pick them up if she agrees."

"I will do that. Thank you, Ductor." John took the slip of paper. "Excuse me."

"You are aware that you are breaking one of our most followed courtesies." Kim smirked. "The one regarding being honest about your age."

"No, I'm not." I said as I sketched on the back of my formulas. "I haven't lied."

"Care to explain?"

"Think back to every word I've said since we entered." I told her. "Then tell me when I deliberately stated my age that was not up to interpretation?" I waited an entire minute before I said. "See? Nothing! I may young, but I certain there is nothing to be said of assuming incorrectly the age of another."

"No there is not." Kim admitted, but warned. "But John will not be happy in being deceived."

"I'll risk it." I smiled and handed my finished sketch to Kim. "What do you think? I was thinking the top for my right bicep and the other for me left."

"More simplistic than I expected." She laid the paper flat on the desk. "But why those particular designs?"

"Which one?"

Kim pointed to the first design. It was separated into three parts. The first were the letters, LEG which was followed by an X with small dots on either side to separate them from the letters GEM. Below that was a the profile of a majestic and powerful bull. At the very bottom were three simple letter each seperated by a dot, PFD.

"It's the mark of the legion." I corrected. "Well, a legion to be exact."

"Legion?"

"_Legio X Gemina_." I said. "The Tenth Twin Legion. Levied by Gaius Julius Caesar himself." I pointed to the three letters on the bottom. P. F. D. "That is short for _Pia Fidelis Domitiana_ or faithful and loyal to Domitian."

"I see." She pointed to the second. The one that would go on my left arm. "What is the meaning behind this symbol?"

The second was rather simplistic. It was simply eleventh letter of the Ancient Greek alphabet, Λ , surrounded by a circle.

"The circle is a shield. The symbol inside is a letter called Lambda." I pointed out. "Lambda was used as a shield pattern by the Spartan Army. It stands for Lacedaemon, the name of the region of Sparta. The Spartans that fought at Thermopylae all had this symbol on their shields."

"The mark of the legion on one arm and the letter of Greece on the other." Kim looked unsure. "I do not understand."

"Ignoring the fact it'll make others assume my age without a word from me, it's a personal reminder."

"A reminder for what?"

"To fight on with the might and discipline of the Romans, but think and strategize like the Greeks at Thermopylae." I said. "Separate from each other, brawn and brains can be overwhelmed, but very few things can overcome if both are used together."

"I see." Kim now looked impressed. "I find to hard imagine you were nothing, but a scared scrawny human child when I first laid on eye on you. I'm curious to see what Fate has in store for you."

"_Sic parvis magna_." I nodded.

"What does that mean?"

"It was the motto of Sir Francis Drake." I said. "It means, greatness from small beginnings ."


	7. A Bandit And A Patient Gentleman

"Ductor," said John wiped away some blood.. "A question if I may?"

"Hmm?" I responded.

I was surprised the immense lack of pain even after two hours. One would think that being stabbed roughly three thousand times per minute, my superhuman reflexes allowed me to count, with what was more or less a thin hollow pipe would be excruciating, but is was not. It was not entirely painless, but after being staked twice, run over my a car, and shot I could say I've felt worse. Even if John had to technically had pierce my skin twice with the special partially silver needle, using his vampiric speed to imitate the machine in his right hand hand, before going over the same wounds with the machine.

It appeared everything was going as planned. John had finished the first line of my design and not a single letter of LEG X GEM displayed a hint of beginning to fade. I grew bored soon after and was fairly certain my hypothesis had been correct when John finished the bull under the first line and began work on the final line. While the current design on my right arm had taken about two hours, the design I had chose for my left would take all of forty-five minutes because of its simplicity John assured me.

Neither John or I said a word, nor did Dwayne who's entire world did not exist other John and I. Kim had stepped outside and was speaking rapidly into a cellphone. I briefly wondered to whom she was speaking with and I had the faintest suspicion it somehow involved me. She cleverly had her back to the window so I could not read her lips and the buzzing of John's machine mixed with the traffic outside made it impossible to catch a single word.

The only thing that betrayed the premise of a simple friendly conversation was her movement. Vampires, unlike humans, don't have a strange need to justify their existence with constant movements like fidgeting, scratching, gazing around, etc. We can simply be. With that in mind, why the stolen glances at me as she expected a daring prison escape? I wondered if Matthew had finally decided on a course of action to deal with me. Kim, a fellow vampire that I had previous and pleasant contact with, would be the perfect candidate to spy on me. If she had chosen to indeed strike out on her own, then she was doing a poor job of it. If the need or desire ever struck her, it wouldn't take the slightest effort for her to return to her Maker's side on Long Island.

I also questioned the convenient timing and luck of coming to me while 'searching for a nest'. Matthew surely had to have a record or a list of possible nest locations that wouldn't risk discovery. I found it difficult to accept that she had simply been fortunate in finding a spacious apartment already furnished for vampires and could easily dominate a much younger vampire. No doubt Matthew wanted to keep an eye on me, but did not wish for me to be aware of it. I had proven my worth, but after the incident with Mae I had also proven I was a bit of a wild card due to my youth.

"Why did you not already posses a mark of the legion?" John asked. "From my understanding, it was quite common for soldiers to have a mark of some kind."

"That is partially true." I said and recited all their information I possess on the subject whilst making it sound natural while choosing words so I was not technically lying. "You see, Romans associated the practice with those of dumb barbarians. Consequently, it was deemed unseemly to sport a tattoo. Therefore, they primarily used tattoos to mark slaves and condemned criminals." I laughed. "Yes, of the free citizenry, by far the largest group to sport tattoos were soldiers, but I was not one of them."

"Truly?" John paused for a moment before resuming. "Then the stories of your exploits during the Roman Empire?"

"Not true." I assured. "As you can tell my obvious lack of muscle, I severely doubted I would have been able to stand straight without crippling my back with all the equipment required in battle at the time I was human. To stay nothing of the mental stress inflicted upon new recruits to insure they do not panic in actual combat." I chuckled as what I said next. "I was born well after the rise and fall of the Tenth Legion and even more so after Leonidas and his final stand of Thermopylae, but I always found the stories inspiring when I learned of them."

"They have stood against test of time well." John admitted.

"I particularly enjoy recounting their reconstitution under Octavian hardly three years later after Caesar disbanded them and rewarded veterans farmlands near Narbonne in Gaul and in Hispania to fight with the forces Lepidus and Mark Antony in the Battle of Philippi against the murderers of Caesar."

That was when Kim reentered and she was not alone. Ian had arrived and I was given even more evidence that Kim had been sent to spy on me. I made no show of surprise, but I did acknowledged he had been seen. Instead of his usual disco suit, he wore a simple gray collared shirt and faux stressed and faded jeans with black leather shoes. He still wore his gold Scorpio medallion, but it was not until he unzipped his jacket and reached inside did I see it. John made gesture and Dwayne nodded and exited out the front door. I understood and approved. I might not know him personally, but sensitive information might be discussed and John didn't want risk his human hearing something that he could do very well without.

"This arrived for you at the Gallery." Ian said holding out a business card.

"Perhaps I should invest in a P. O. box." I said as I took the card. "Unless Matthew is curious about the adventurous life of a postal worker."

"Or you could simply invest in a phone." Ian explained. "Mae and Abraham were very annoyed when you could not be reached."

"I did have one." I said as I examined the card. "I ripped it out of the wall."

"Why?"

"It kept ringing and as much as I'd love the appreciation for eradicating the tri-state area of telemarketers, I had more important and pleasant things to occupy my attention." I turned the card over. "Like this for example. It is blank."

"It was delivered by a glamored human." Ian explained. "She approached Matthew as he surveyed the club for a meal. She handed this to him and said it was to be delivered to you as soon as possible."

"What were her exact words?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Can you tell me what she said verbatim?." I clarified.

"This is to be given to the Ductor." Ian said. "To which Matthew took the card and asked why."

"What was the answer?"

"It is a private matter." Ian grew serious. "The Jägerin is walking into a trap."

"Jägerin?" I repeated. "That is clearly German."

"So you know this Jägerin ?" Kim asked.

"Not in the slightest." I said. "I never found the need to learn German."

"What do you intend to do?" Ian demanded. "So I may inform Matthew."

"For now?" I noticed John had finished the final line. "Conclude my arrangement with John. Then I will look into this. If I discover anything worth his attention, I will let him know promptly."

Ian nodded and left without a word. If I wasn't certain Kim was spying on me before, I was now. Matthew had informed that the king had only granted him one investigator per borough. Even if he concentrated solely on Manhattan, it would be nigh impossible for five vampires — eight if he sent Mae, Abraham, and Ian — to scour the entire island to find a single vampire before sunrise. Night wasn't half way through and Ian found me like I was the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The only one who knew where I had been for the past two hours were Sally and Kim. Sally could have been the one to divulge my location, but Kim was the most likely choice. If I had been Matthew and hired Kim, she would be first on my list for information with Ryuu following soon after and then finally Sally.

"This shows great promise." John examined his work. "None of my past attempts have lasted this long." He set the machine down and squeezed my arm gently. "Any pain or discomfort?"

"Not particularly." I said. "It feels as if the muscle is sore from being overworked."

"That sounds normal. Although this is new territory for me." John wiped away any traces of blood with an antibacterial wipe. "I normally warn the humans that their body will be sore and sensitive for a time. At least a week or so, but considering our healing and capacity for pain I'd wager it will be much less time." He leaned closer and held my arm until it was less than half an inch from his eye. "You've already ceased bleeding."

"How do you feel?" Kim asked. "Weaker?"

"No." I said. "Why do you ask?"

"As I'm sure you are aware, Ductor." Kim said with a slight hint of a smile. "Silver poisoning is near instant once it enters our blood."

"Well, I feel no different than normal." I said. "John, please continue with my other arm."

"As you wish, Ductor."

John wordlessly drew my blood and mixed it with ink and blood like he had before. Once he finished, he took the stool he had been sitting along with the padded arm rest and moved to my left. I was aware when John began and that Kim moved to stand with her back again to the mirror on my right, but my attention was focused elsewhere for the most part. Namely the card Ian had delivered.

It looked like any business card that hundreds of companies and millions of individuals used all over the country. It was about three and half inches long by two inches tall. Where traditional cards regularly had the giver's name or a logo along with vital contact information — street addresses, telephone number fax number, e-mail addresses, website address, etc — the one I held was the same off white color on either side.

"Hmm?" I said aloud when I switched between sides.

"Have you deciphered its meaning?" Kim asked.

"No." I explained. "But if there is a message written, if at all, it was writing by a vampire or another supernatural that has inhumanly delicate touch." I paused. "Or used a machine that can print without leaving even the slightest indentation on the surface."

"I once saw Ryuu run a pencil over a sheet of blank paper." Kim offered. "Once he finished, he discovered a plot to overthrow a sheriff in LA."

"Like I said, no indentations." I repeated. "That trick won't work."

"May I see it?"

I wordlessly handed it to her. I watched as she repeated all I had done. First she examined both sides critically for an entire minute for either side. She frowned for a moment and held it up to the light and squinted. Finally, she tilted it at various angles to see if anything reflected. While I did not say a word or betrayed a single emotion, I was amused that she thought she could decipher the puzzle where I could not.

"Anything?" I asked.

"If there was a message written there," Kim handed the card back. "It is impossible to discover what exactly it said."

"Never cared much for the word 'impossible.' " I said nonchalantly and stared at the card with curiosity. "Sounds a bit too much like 'unsinkable.' "

"I don't understand." Kim asked. "What's wrong with unsinkable?

"Nothing." I frowned at the card. "As the iceberg said to the Titanic."

I decided to return to basics in a sense. Barring the existence of a sixth sense, there were only five ways, or perceptions, to convey information — auditory perception , olfactory perception, visual perception, tactile perception, and gustatory perception. In layman's terms, the five basic senses. All I could see, even with my augmented sight, was an off white business card. Then I flicked the card quickly by my ear and heard nothing but flapping. I followed that by carefully and very delicately running a finger across both faces.

Something felt off.

"Bingo!" I rubbed my fingers together.

"You found something?" Kim asked.

"Perhaps." I noticed my fingers felt dry. Far too dry. "Too soon to tell."

I dabbed my tongue with my fingers and was reward with an incredibly sour taste. I fought the urge to gag, but there was no hiding my displeasure. I must have resembled Tux whenever she had a horrible taste in her mouth because Kim actually giggled. I ignored her and sniffed the card. I hid a smile at the card when I placed the scent and deduced that message had in fact been written. It was so simple and yet genius. Not only could anyone gather materials for hardly more than a dollar, it would be impossible to trace whomever had written the message.

"Kim?" I said.

"Yes?"

"Would you please go to my coat and bring me everything in the left outside pocket?"

I watched as she retrieved my lighter and the flask Abraham had given me. Without my asking, Kim unscrewed the cap and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks and washed the bitter sour taste from my mouth with large gulp of, albeit cold, O negative. I held the out to Kim who paused for a moment only to shrug and take a swing herself. I then offered the flask to John who also accepted and finished the last of the blood.

"Thanks, Kim." I handed the flask back to her. "I guess I'm not a big fan of lemonade."

"Lemonade?" Kim screwed the cap back onto the flask. "You mixed lemonade into the blood."

"No." I said. "But put a tack in that thought for later." I held up the card. "Now light this for me."

"Excuse me?" Kim raised an eyebrow.

"Take my lighter and set this card on fire." I repeated. "I'd do it myself, but left arm is otherwise occupied."

"But you will destroy the message." Kim protested. "If you are wrong there will be no way of retrieving the message."

"True." I admitted and rolled my eyes. "But before we die of old age, in which case case would be quite an achievement so congratulations on that, is there any way you could just trust that I know what I am doing and do as I ask?"

Kim narrowed her eyes at me, but ran the flame along the top edge of the card so it caught evenly. I held the card out and smiled as words in flowing calligraphy formed on the card. It nothing more than single question, or rather a riddle.

"Hello there." I said before I read aloud. "Where in a royal county might Lynne and Brook might share a public house if one serves Lycaon and the other Hecate?"

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" John paused to ask.

"It makes no sense." Kim remarked.

"It's a riddle." I explained. "Written in invisible ink."

"Invisible ink?" Kim asked.

"Well, lemon juice actually." I crushed the card to extinguish the flame. "Simple, but very effective nonetheless."

"How dose mixing lemon juice with ink render it invisible?" Kim asked.

"It doesn't." I informed. "Technically, there was no actual ink used to write on the card."

"Explain." Kim demanded.

"Some organic substances oxidize when heated which usually turns them brown. "I explained. "For example the citric acid found in lemons and oranges. It's child's play to dilute some with water, write a message on the card, and allow it to dry before delivering it without fear of it being read by the wrong eyes. It also makes it so the recipient more or less has to destroy the message to read it."

"And what is the meaning?" Kim asked. "Find the one mentioned? Luke and Heck-something?"

"Not sure." I admitted. "But my Sanctum Sanctorum should take care of it."

"Excuse me?"

"Sanctum Sanctorum." I repeated. "It is Latin. Literally meaning sacred sanctuary. It's the name I gave to my mind palace."

Kim just stared like I had gone mad.

"The Method of loci, loci being Latin for 'places'," I rattled off doing nothing to hid the bored tone in my voice." It is sometimes called the memory palace or mind palace technique. It's is a mnemonic device adopted in ancient Roman and Greek rhetorical treatises. You'll find mentioned in Rhetorica ad Herennium, Cicero's De Oratore, and Quintilian's Institutio Oratoria."

Kim just continued staring.

"Would have it been so hard to open a book in all the time you've been around?" I muttered before I continued. "In basic terms, it is a method of memory enhancement which uses visualization to organize and recall information. In theory, you could mentally carry an entire library in your head."

"I see." Kim finally said. "But how — "

"Just trust that it'll help." I said impatiently. "I have several book back at the nest if you're that curious." I then asked John. "Not to rush you, John, but how long do you think this will take?"

"I've finished piercing and outlining the design you desire." John motioned to the machine. "I should finish within the next hour or so."

"No rush, John." I said as I closed my eyes. "Just needed a time frame."

Just like before, I opened my eyes to a corridor. It was very brightly lit and painted the same blinding white as before. My footsteps echoed as I walked and reached a very large circular room with no less than fifty doorways and branching corridors. Each of the doorways were labeled in a system only known to me. For example, the one that had a chef's toque would lead to all I knew in regards to the culinary arts and would further divided by subject as regions and year. Unlike when I decided on a name for my mind palace, I was not here to search for an answer, but to decipher one. The answer to the riddle might require knowledge from several subject with no practical relation to each other and it would be too time consuming to walk through the entire Sanctum.

I nodded once and clasped my hands together in front of me. I opened them far and wide and the riddle appeared in front of me in large words with letters each the size of a book. They floated away and slightly above eye level so I could see word without turning my head or move my eyes.

Where in a royal county might Lynne and Brook might share a public house if one serves Lycaon and the other Hecate?

That was the question, but there several questions in the question itself. One of them being who were Lycaon and Hecate? I decided to answer Lycaon's identity first. I held my hand out and Lycaon came forward and hovered in front of me. It was clearly used as name, but I have never known anyone to be called Lycaon before. I guessed it might be a simple anagram and played with the letters. Without excluding letters I came up with ten result, none of which made sense. I studied them for a moment to see if anything came to me.

Lacyon

Clanyo

Clayon

Clayno

Lacyon

Lacyno

Cyanlo

Lacony

Laycon

Ancloy

So Lycaon was not an anagram. I dismissed my results with a wave and they faded away. Part of the name sounded familiar to me, like I had heard a word or the name itself somewhere before, but I couldn't recall where. I thought for another solid minute and motioned for Lycaon to return to its previous position and for Hecate to come to me.

Now I was certain that I knew who this Hecate was. I gathered the name and flicked it towards the one of the many doorways. It shot down the corridor that had an altar carved overhead. Less than half a minute later, a book faded in front of me. It was leather bound and had The Five Olympic Rings on the cover. I took it in my hand and flipped through it. It was all I had stored on Ancient Greek mythology. I guess Hecate must be one of the lesser known demigods like Hercules or Achilles. She might even be a goddess. It was after I had flipped through the major gods and goddess that were the Twelve Olympians — Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera, Athena, Ares, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Apollo, Artemis, Demeter, Dionysus — that I found Hecate. It seems she was a minor goddess, like Khinoe or Persephone. It read :

_**Hecate or Hekate**__ (/ˈhɛkətiː, ˈhɛkɪt/; Greek Ἑκάτη, Hekátē) is a goddess in Greek religion and mythology, most often shown holding two torches or a key __and in later periods depicted in triple form. She was variously associated with __magic, crossroads, moon, ghosts and necromancy__. She is often served by and commands empusae_

The last sentence caught my attention. The one regarding her servants. According the riddle, her servants and those of Lycaon shared something called a public house. I turned a couple of pages, skipping her origin and her meddling with mortals, and found what I was looking for. It was barely a paragraph, but I read it carefully so not to miss a detail.

_**Empusa **__(Ancient Greek: Ἔμπουσα, Empousa, of unknown meaning) is a demigoddess of Greek mythology. In later incarnations she appeared as a species of monsters commanded by Hecate (known in English as an empuse)._

_Empusa was the beautiful daughter of the goddess Hecate and the spirit Mormo. She feasted on blood by seducing young men as they slept, before drinking their blood and eating their flesh Empusa is pictured as wearing brazen slippers and bearing flaming hair. By folk etymology, her name was said to mean "one-footed" (from Greek *έμπούς, *empous: en-, one + pous, foot). This gave rise to the iconography of a one-legged hybrid, with a donkey's leg and a brass prosthetic leg. Widely accepted as the origin of and the basis for vampires._

So that was one piece of the puzzle solved. Being a servant of Hecate, like either Lynne or Brooke, meant being a vampire.

With that solved, I turned back to what serving Lycaon pointed to. If serving Hecate meant being a vampire than being a servant might mean being another supernatural being. I also reasoned that if one was mentioned in ancient Greek mythology than so should the other. Lycaon was probably another demigod or a minor god. Once that thought crossed my mind the book in my hand turned its own pages and stopped hardly half a second later. It was exactly what I was searching for. It seemed discovering Hecate had reminded me that I knew Lycaon as well. I read with interest at the small paragraph

_**Lycaon **__(/laɪˈkeɪɒn/; Greek: Λυκάων]) was a king of Arcadia, son of Pelasgus and Meliboea, who tested Zeus by serving him the roasted flesh of a guest from Epirus in order to see whether Zeus was truly omniscient. In return for these gruesome deeds Zeus transformed Lycaon into the form of a wolf, and killed Lycaon's fifty other sons with lightning bolts; the slaughtered child, Nyctimus, was restored to life. Argubly the basis for werewolves as well as thier alternate name of lycanthrope._

It seemed I was halfway to solving the riddle. Now I knew I was being lead to a "public house" where vampires and werewolves both could be found without conflict. All that was left was to decipher what public house and royal county meant.

I threw the book of Greek myths and it faded quickly as it had appeared. I stared at the message that still floated, but now Lycaon and Hecate glowed bright gold. I suppose it was my way of remembering that I knew the true meaning behind those names. I beckoned and "public house" floated down in front of me. This was going to be difficult. At face value a public house was simply that, meaning a house open to the public. I paced back and forth for a way to approach. Naturally, and mostly as a matter of formality, I tried to see if it was an anagram. It resulted in gibberish with only the occasional word and leftover letters.

Bluish Coupe

Chub Lie Opus

Pubic Hue Sol

Club Hue Pois

Cub Louse Hip

Lube Ouch Sip

Blue Such Poi

Bush Cop Lieu

Hub Locus Pie

Lib Cup House

Blip Ouch Use

I decided to put that part of the puzzle on the back burner so to speak and focus on the which county had ties to royalty. First off, I needed both a list and map of all the counties in the state. That was assuming the "royal county" in question was in New York. Since the card had been meant for the Ductor and my exploits were known to happen in New York City and Long Island, it would be safe to assume that he was still there. If by some chance, which there was a fair one, the county was outside of the state, I only could only hope that New York wasn't at war with another kingdom. Based on my recent run of luck, the riddle would lead me to New Jersey and there had to be a reason why New Yorkers, and Long Islanders, hated New Jersey for centuries.

I made gesture like I was unrolling a scroll and a parchment map appeared between my fingers. It may have looked like an ancient treasure map from a pirate film, but that simply for decorative purposes. It was a map of the entire Empire State. It was divided into the ten regions that made up the state. Western New York was began on the coast of Lake Ontario near the Canadian border and continued west until it reached the Finger Lakes region which was directly north of third region known as the Southern Tier. The forth region, aptly named Central New York, was directly in the middle with North Country as the very large fifth taking up all the land along the Canadian and Vermont borders. Regions six and seven, Mohawk Valley and Capital District respectively, were adjacent to each other and south of North Country. The final three regions — Hudson Valley, New York City, and Long Island — made up the rest of the state with the eight directly north of New York City and Long Island immediately east of the city.

I tapped the map and lines began dividing the regions by county. It took all of thirty seconds. Once that finished, I tapped New York and Long Island. Instantly, all of the other region disappeared so the other two could take up the entirety of the map. Now I was viewing the five boroughs of New York City and the two counties of Long Island. I was already familiar with Long Island. Nassau county, the one I had resided all of my human life, started where Queens ended and was relatively small in comparison to Suffolk.

Despite my own views and experiences, Nassau County is the wealthiest county in New York and highest income counties in the United States. It was true if you only saw small hamlets like Port Washington and Sands Point, but Hempstead could rival some parts of the South Bronx. While Nassau only stretched as far east as Plainview, Suffolk took up the rest of the island that housed the island's "working class". At least that was according to Nassau residents. Unfortunately, neither could conceivably be called a royal county. Nassau's name came a Dutch Prince William of Nassau who was a member of the House of Nassau, itself named for the German town Nassau. Suffolk was simply named for Suffolk, England when it was settled in 1683 by the English.

With Long Island eliminated, I turned my attention to New York City. The second I did, I mentally slapped myself. Of course that meant, in my Sanctum Santorum, I actually slapped myself. All of the counties in the city were interchangeable with the boroughs. The Bronx county was itself the Bronx as was the rest of the city. There were two exceptions. One of them was Staten Island which was Richmound County and the same could be said of Brooklyn.

That was when I heard John's voice, "Ductor?"

I opened my eyes and I was back in Last Rites.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I have finished." He held up a mirror. "Is it too your liking?"

I examined and flexed my arm slightly. "_Perfectum, amice_."

So with the world's first post vampiric tattoos and two hundred fifty dollars, Kim and I bid John good luck and good bye. I checked my watch and saw the night was still young. Sunset was incredibly early in mid-December at roughly four thirty in the afternoon and sunrise wouldn't be until just after seven in the morning. Even with the time it took to travel to Last Rites by taxi, which was considerably longer because of the massive influx of tourists for the holiday season, it was barely nine 'o clock. Not even the elderly would call it late.

"So did you decipher the message?" Kim asked as we walked towards the corner.

"Most of it." I admitted. "I'm stuck on what exactly a "public house" is."

"It is the formal name for a pub." Kim said nonchalantly.

"What?!" I stopped walking. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I see your gift does have limits." Kim smiled slightly. "You'd do best not to advertise that."

"My gift doesn't grant me omniscient knowledge." I paused for literal half second to add the final piece to the puzzle. "So I'm looking for a pub in Lynbrook. Makes sense."

"A pub in Lynbrook?" Kim repeated. "There are dozens of them."

"I take it Ryuu owns a good number of them?"

"Through proxies, yes."

"And how many do both vampire and Weres frequent?"

"Vampires and Weres?" Kim was clearly confused. "Why both?"

"The riddle points to one." I repeated. "Where in a royal county might Lynne and Brook might share a public house if one serves Lycaon and the other Hecate?." I explained. "Servants of the Greek Goddess Hecate, empousai, according to humans were the inspiration for the myth of vampires. Lycaon, in another Greek myth, was turned into a wolf by Zeus for serving him human flesh as a test and heavily influenced stories about werewolves."

"Alright, I see." Kim said sounding unsure. "But why Lynbrook?"

"A royal county." I answered. "Nassau County, as I am sure you're aware of, is home to some of the most wealthiest and influential humans in the country. It is no mere coincidence that when you combine the names Lynne and Brook it results in the name of a village in Nassau County."

"I understand." Kim nodded firmly once. "Ryuu dose own a bar in Lynbrook, but I have not set foot inside for nearly ten years. I do recall both Weres and vampire kept to themselves without much incident."

"Then you'd better change that." I said as I wrote a number to a payphone I frequented on a dollar bill with a pen I kept in a pocket. "Call this number after you've properly scouted the place."

"First of all, I do not follow your orders." Kim said flatly and refusing to take the dollar. "Second, why should I go?"

"Because it might be a trap."

Kim raised an eyebrow.

"I take it you didn't announce to world that you were no longer in Ryuu's retinue?"

"No."

"Then no one will think twice if the sheriff's child shows up out of the blue. Most will just chalk it up to a surprise inspection or something. They'll take one look at you and one of two things will happen. Either they will ignore and go on with the plan or they will abandon it and not risk harming the child of the sheriff who has a direct line to the Ductor himself. You also have the advantage of being far more familiar with the layout than I."

"And if they decide to throw caution to the wind and attack regardless?" Kim demanded.

"I won't lie about that. " I said. "That is a slight possibility, but you won't be alone. If this pub truly is one where vampires and Weres converge, then I'm sure many would jump at the chance to not only take some revenge on our fallen brethren but get into Ryuu's good graces by fighting by his child's side." I added for good measure. "Not to mention I've seen you in combat. If it dose come to blows, I doubt a few lucky scratches from some very unlucky Weres would cause you much concern."

I watched as Kim mulled it over for a full minute before nodding once. "Very well." She took the dollar. "You should purchase a cellphone as soon as you can so communication is not an issue."

"I'll keep that in mind." I assured. "In the mean time, I'll make some preparations."

"Preparations?"

"Plan of attack, back up plan of attack, a list of witty remarks." I explained. "Prepare for the worst and hope for the best."

After hailing a cab, Kim was on her way to Penn Station and Long Island from there. I informed it would have been much faster if she had taken the "A" train, but she dismissed the notion claiming she did not want to get lost. I argued that it was simple, but she put her foot down and I surrendered. I waited ten minutes before I walked to a pay phone next to an empty bus stop. I gazed around to make sure no one was watching, which was difficult considering the sheer amount of foot traffic, as I made a show of fishing in my pocket for a quarter.

Truth be told, I had lied to her in a way. The riddle had indeed pointed to a pub in Lynbrook on Long Island. After all when you combined Lynn and Brooke you were rewarded with the name of a village on the island. A village that sat in a county were influential and powerful individuals made their home from all over the country. However, Nassau was merely a rich county and while you could argue it was where American royalty could be found, it was not the correct answer to the riddle. The correct answer was Brooklyn or rather King's county. You could not get much higher in royalty than a king and if you switched the order of Lynne and Brooke, you were rewarded with a misspelled version of Brooklyn.

It was my way to discover if Kim had been sent to spy on me. No doubt she would report to Matthew whom had struck as the type not to tolerate failure and not likely to give second chances. If Kim merely accepted my "excuse" that I hadn't realized my mistake until she had already reached Lynbrook, then it was all just a coincidence. However, if she was abnormally angry with me and called me out of the fabrication then I had all the confirmation I needed. Not only would I have dealt with a potential spy before events grew serious, but Matthew would have to devise another plan and I would be wary. I was also fairly certain that no matter how furious she might be with me for costing her a chancing to increase her standing, she wouldn't kill me. I had already proven my worth to her and, more importantly, to her maker. She was intelligent to know there was a likely probability of events occurring that might require my services.

I fed the quarter into the phone and dialed a number. I waited and someone picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Edgar?" The voice sounded familiar, but I wished to be certain.

"Speaking." Edgar answered. "I take this is you, Ductor?"

"I require your services for tonight." I said. "And those in your sector."

"Sure thing." Edgar answered. "Whadda ya need?"

"I need to meet someone in a pub in Brooklyn."

"You got a name?" He asked.

"Not entirely sure." I said flatly. "It might be called Lynne's, Brooke's, or even Lynne and Brooke's pub.

"It's never simple with you. At least you had a picture of that janitor." He chuckled. "So a pub in Brooklyn called Brooke and Lynn's. What do I tell the boys to look for?"

"Tell them to stay in the hard neighborhoods." I said. "Brownsville, Cypress Hills, Crown Heights. Places like that."

"Most of 'em already call those places home so that ain't problem." Edgar asked. "Anything else?"

"This is going to sound strange, but instruct them to take note of any pubs that scream for them to stay away."

"How are they suppose to do that?"

"If they can walk up to and enter, then it's not the one I'm looking for." I explained.

"Gotcha." Edgar then asked. "How fast do you need it?"

"ASAP." I answered. "Tonight."

"What should I tell the boys?"

"Fifty each and an extra hundred to the ones that find it." I added. "And I'll donate my largest pot of Manhattan Clam Chowder to the soup kitchen on fourth and Lincoln by the end of the week if any one of them finds it within the next two hours."

"That'll light a fire under 'em." Edgar made a lip smacking sound. "I still have dreams about that shrimp gumbo you donated for the janitor job and I wager so do the boys on your side of the river."

"Thank you, Edgar." I said.

"Should I call you back at this number?" Edgar asked.

"No." I paused for a moment as I remembered where I had parked. "Call Carl's Classics."

"Where is that?" Edgar asked. "It might be easier to send someone if they're close by."

"Brooklyn." I informed. "Bedford Avenue between Park and Myrtle."

"Ten four." Edgar said. "Call ya soon."

With that, Edgar hung up and I followed suit. I stepped out and headed south on eighth avenue. I continued for a bit until I reached Penn Station and entered from the entrance on west thirty-fourth street. Despite the deafening the crowds of tourists, locals, and street musicians mixed with the scent of garbage, urine, body odor, and various kinds of foods, I just managed to find and reach the "A" train heading through downtown and Brooklyn. It was an uneventful, if somewhat crowded, ride through Lower Manhattan and the East River from there. I took no notice of the humans entering or leaving at each stop choosing instead to retreat into myself. I left just enough consciousness, for the lack of a better word, to listen to the conductor's announcements if there were delays to a sudden derailment or something to that effect. I did transfer to the "G" train once I reached Schermerhorn street and got off once it reached the Bedford and Nostrand avenue stop.

I quickly took the steps to street level and emerged on the corner of Lafayette and Bedford avenue. There was the smell of stale fried chicken coming from the Kentucky Fried Chicken to my left across the street. The large windows were too fogged up to make out anything other than blurry outlines of humans moving around inside. Other than the occasional store or small shop, I was surrounded mostly by residental buildings that were either under renovation or in need of it. The intersection wasn't empty, but it seemed most of the car traffic was concentrated back in Manhattan. The foot traffic on the other hand was more or less the same just with more small children playing on stoops throwing snowballs.

I headed north on Bedford at a brisk pace. I walked past a couple of vendors with carts selling espresso and hot chocolate as well as a few men dressed as Santa Claus collecting for the Salvation Army. Those one of the few occasions I loathed my augmented senses. The smell of freshly brewed espresso wasn't unpleasant, but the scent of rotting beans mixed with the day's garbage was and sound clamoring bells ringing could rival some cannons as far as my ears were concerned.

I did have to endure for much as I reached Carl's Classics after only three blocks. It was a used car lot that specialized in older makes and models. I had been refered by a repair shop in Harlem after I had brought my motorcycle to be restored and fine tuned. They claimed that the work I wanted done was little out of their forte and provided with the number and address of Carl's Classic. Apparently, they were on good terms with each other and often referred jobs to each other and they had a mechanic that had been raised around motorcycles and was better suited.

After the fiasco that happened with Christine, I found it difficult to keep the bike. So I took it one of the few shops not owned by Weres, thanks to Matthew's end of the bargain, and did not spare any expense to return the motorcycle to its former glory. Once they finished, I paid and glamored the owner to deliver it to Christine's home. It might not have belonged to her uncle, but she had of a right to it than I did.

There were a few cars from the current decade, but those were few and far between. The lot consisted of the main building which was a repair shop with room for three cars to be worked on simultaneously in addition to a small main office. The entire lot was relatively small in comparison to the company owned dealerships lots with room for hardly twenty-five or so cars. Some of those cars went as far back as the 1930's and had been expertly restored. Of course, there was money in older model cars so naturally the entire lot was fenced by a tall fence and topped with old looking barbed wire that curled the top. Since the lot did not sit on a corner, there were only two gates that allowed cars to enter and leave the lot.

Luckily for me, and any vampire in the city, the lot was open 24/7 with a mechanic on call. I assumed that, despite the booming economy, the lot made most of its money from repairs than the actual sale of cars. Regardless of the reason, it allowed me to enter the lot without having to jump over the fence. The lot was free of ice and any snow had been pushed into a small mountain in a corner out of the way.

I entered the main office and small brass bell rang to alert anyone to my presence. It was more or less the same as any other repair shop office. Other than the door that I entered from there were two more. One was directly behind a long desk that was labeled for employees only and the other lead to the shop. Everything was just slightly stained even though I was certain that even the floor was clean enough to eat off of. Many posters and flyers advertising particular brands of car parts like oil and oil filters hung on the walls and on the long desk the separated customers from the employees. A coffee pot was tucked in the corner opposite the desk, presumably for customer to drink while they waited, and had almost finished brewing. On either side of the coffee pot were three steel framed chairs with red faux leather cushions for the seat and back.

"I was wondering when you were gonna show up." said a man as he entered from the door behind the desk. "I hope you got my message about the bike."

The man, who despite the shop's name, was Harold and the owner. He was a large, somewhat muscular, middle-aged man with a slight paunch and beard that would rival a dwarf. His dark brown hair was cut short and touches of gray along his side burns and small patches in his beard. He smelt of car fluids, oil and antifreeze mostly, mixed with cigarettes and deodorant, but he seem to radiate a cheerful demeanor and gave the impression he loved to laugh and joke.

"Sorry." I smiled politely. "Phone company's been giving me a hard time."

"I gotcha." Harold shrugged. "I would've switched years ago, but everyone knows my number."

"What happened with the bike?" I asked.

"Nothing." Harold said. "I left a message saying everything went without a hitch. Parked it in front of the house and left the keys in the mailbox along with that letter."

"Oh." I said. "You said it's ready?"

"Been that way for a little over a week." He pointed with a thumb behind him. "It's out back under a tarp. We would've finished sooner, but those T tops are pain in the ass to find. Had to special order 'em from Georgia, ironically enough."

"I understand." I reached inside my coat. "I doubt any of the deposit is left over?"

"Not as much as you think." Harold open a drawer and flipped through some paperwork. "Here it is! Ya left thirty grand in cash. Twenty-five for a sweet piece of machinery and five to get it back to red carpet status." Harold laughed to himself. "I'm assuming after one hell of a night in Vegas cause I haven't seen kids your age able to drop that much in cash."

"So what do I owe you?" I asked.

"Five hundred."

"Really?" I said. "Just that?"

"Just that he says." Harold leaned forward and smiled. "Kid, what do you do for a living? I'm only asking cause I'm seriously regretting my career choice."

"I'm a consultant." I said which was true in a way.

"What kind?"

"Anything and everything." I shrugged. "You give me a problem and I do some research and give a suggestion."

"Hmm." Harold considered it. "And if it don't work out?"

"Then it doesn't." I said simply. "But I don't get paid if it doesn't."

"But ya roast 'em alive if it dose." Harold laughed. "Well, I would."

"I'll keep it in mind." I smiled and counted out five hundred dollar bills. "Here."

"I'll have my boy bring it out front." He said as he took the money. "Max!"

A moment later a younger looking Harold, presumably Max, came in from the shop. He wore a pristine mechanic's uniform with dark work boots and a backwards cap. He had a muscular build and looked to be at college age with a trimmed goatee.

"Yeah, Pop?" He asked.

"Here!" Harold tossed him a key-chain with two keys. "Bring the bandit out front."

"Bandit?" Then Max understood. "Oh! Sure thing, Pop."

Max cut through the office and jogged around the side and disappeared.

"He ain't the sharpest tool in the box." Harold shrugged nonchalantly. "But it don't take a rocket scientist to work here."

"At least until someone brings in an Opel-RAK."

We both shared a laugh though I was fairly certain Harold didn't have the slightest idea what an Opel-RAK was. It was hardly minute later when I heard the roar of a powerful engine come to life and grow louder as Max pulled to the front with a car. A car that I had spent considerable amount of money to restore. I took a step to leave when the phone rang.

"Carl's Classics!" Harold answered cheerfully. "Can I help you?"

"Is the Ductor there?" asked a voice.

"Doctor?" Harold asked. "Doctor Who?"

"I think that's for me." I held out a hand. "I told a couple of friends I was going to be here. They probably looked you up in the book."

"Oh." He handed the phone over. "Here!."

"Thank you and I'm sorry about that." I held the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Is this the Ductor?" the voice asked again as I recognized it was Edgar.

"Speaking."

"Then we found the bar." Edgar said proudly. "A Patient Gentleman on Fulton between Essex and Linwood in Cypress Hills. It looks like one of those old timey diners, but all of the windows are seriously tinted. "

"Really?" I said doing my best to act mildly surprised. "Can you explain?"

"The boys say that it's the only place open on that side of street and people seem to go out of their way to avoid it." Edgar informed me. "The closest they could get was the corner on either side of the place. They couldn't set a foot on the parking lot, but every now and then someone or a group stroll right inside like it's nothing."

"I see." I nodded once. "Alright, thanks for telling me. I owe you."

"Just give us a heads up on the chowder." Edgar laughed. "See ya, Ductor."

"Here." I handed the phone back to Harold. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Harold hung up the phone. "Come on. The longer Max sits in the seat the least likey your going to keep it."

Together we both walked outside. Despite what Harold had said, Max was still there and so was the car. I paused for a moment to admire the car. It was somewhat a big moment for me. This was the first car I had ever purchased by myself for myself. I had loved my old '78 Toyota Cressida as much as most did the first car their father bought for them, but it wasn't under the usual circumstances.

I learned quickly enough that the only reason for my father sudden generosity was more out of convenience for him than anything else. With my own car, I could take care any and all errands he'd rather avoid with a passion. Not to mention the police would stop, as he put it, harassing him for having a beer or two after a day before coming home and slapping him with a DUI if I was driving. There was also the another hidden catch attached to the "gift" which was the responsibility of having to maintain both my new car and my father's truck. Of course he did his fatherly duty of teaching me to drive. If one could count a single three hour lesson which was more ranting about how police will look for any excuse to fuck you over for bullshit — which I'm sure were out there, but had to be all of one percent at the very most of the entire population of police in the entire country — teaching someone to drive. For the most part, it was how I learned guitar and piano. I simply learned by doing until it became second nature.

While both my grandfather and my father were mechanics, I did not share their enthusiasm for engines. That wasn't to say I didn't think a car was a car. I was eight years old when the film Smokey and the Bandit was released in theaters, but I didn't see it until a year later when I caught it on television. It wasn't any masterpiece, even being the second highest grossing film of the year.

It was a harmless fun comedy where a rich Texas wheeler-dealer Big Enos Burdette and his son, Little Enos locate legendary truck driver Bo "Bandit" Darville, played by then unknown Burt Reynolds, and offer him $80,000 to haul 400 cases of Coors beer from Texarkana, Texas to the "Southern Classic" in Georgia which was technically bootlegging since it was illegal to transport alcohol east of Texas. Naturally for the sake of the plot, Bandit accepts the bet and recruits his best friend and fellow truck driver Cledus "Snowman" Snow to drive the truck, promising to buy him a new truck with the proceeds. Shortly after, using an advance from the Burdettes for a "speedy car", Bandit purchases a black 1977 Pontiac Trans Am, which he will drives as a "blocker" car to deflect attention away from the truck and its illegal cargo.

And here it was. Thirty-five hundred pounds of classic American muscle with two hundred draft horses under the hood just chomping at the bit to be released. A shiny black and masterfully restored with golden decals 1977 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am. The legendary car from my childhood. And it was all mine. Bought with my money for my use and no one else. If only my nine-year old self could see me now.

"I know your answer, but I gotta ask." Max smiled as exited the car. "Any chance I can convince you to leave it here for a couple more days?"

"Not a chance." I returned the smile as I walked around the car when I noticed. "Are those license plates?"

"Um, they're temporary." Harold look uncomfortable.

"Temporary?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah!" Harold sounded unsure how to proceed before he forced an easy smile. "It's so you can drive it home or pick up the paperwork at the DMV."

Something felt off, like Harold was being less than honest. I probably should have asked and demanded an answer, but I had somewhere to be. Worst case scenario, a cop pulled me over and it turned out the car was stolen. If that happened, a quick glamor followed by return trip to have a chat with Harold about his customer service practices. I know I wasn't in a position to debate ethics, but it seemed like a common courtesy to warn about the possible consequences of your products.

"Speaking of which." I said as I walked to the driver side door. "Do you have the title?"

"In the glove box." Harold said.

"Thanks." I said to Max who opened the door for me and slide into the driver's seat.

It was everything as I imagined. Not only was the exterior and everything under hood restored to the factory original parts, but so was the interior. The floor mats were pitch black with same iconic golden bird logo spreading its wings over the words "Trans Am". In fact, the bird was everywhere in the same gold on black color scheme. A small one was dead center of the steering wheel whose grip was wrapped in black leather and divided into three by golden bars. Another one was just on the right of the interior door handle which matched the steering wheel and the one on stick-shift. The dashboard was awashed in reflective gold that was broken up by black round circles for the gauges, the largest of which were the speedometer and tachometer. Even the radio, which was classic cassette player instead of the modern CD players that were starting to take over, was original.

"All it's missing is a CB radio." I said absent minded.

"Well, it's not one, but check out the glove box." Harold motioned. "Found it when we got to workin' on the interior. The guy who had it before must have left it there and forgot about it."

I did as he said and leaned over to open the glove box. Like he had said, I found the title folded up neatly in an envelope. Next to that was a small black plastic rectangle. I took it out and saw it was an audio cassette. It had a white label that was peeling in the corners and someone had written "Driving Mix" on it with a marker. I shrugged and popped it into the cassette player. Instantly, September by Earth, Wind, and Fire began to play. Whomever the previous owner was, he must had access to professional level recording equipment because the sound was crisp and clear without the slightest hint of static even to my ears.

"I tell ya." Max nodded approvingly and bobbed his head to the music. "Made it easier working on this baby."

"I can imagine." I reached into my coat and pulled out two fifty dollar bills. "Here, for you and Harold."

After bidding them good bye and making sure they each took a step back, I was on my way. It took all of a minute to get a feel for the clutch and stick. It had been years since I had driven a stick. The last time was when I was seventeen and I drove my father's truck before the transmission finally went after years of patchwork just to keep it running. Naturally, he blamed me and claimed it was years of me not shifting properly. Even if that had been true, it was only for the first two weeks or so when Eric's father taught me how to shift in the first place.

I stopped thinking about the past and forced myself to focus on the present which was infinitely better.

As it turned out, The Patient Gentleman was fairly close by if Edgar's information was accurate. Hardly half an hour away. I headed north on Bedford and made a right on Park Avenue which I took for about a mile. While I waited at a red light on Park and Nostrand, I lowered the window and lit a cigarette. That was when I noticed a group of college girls who looked to be on their way to a club admire my new car as they crossed the street. I also saw that some weren't just admiring the car as they batted their eyes at me. I revved the loudly and they jumped. They giggled and batted their eyes at me which I returned with a wink before take a drag from my cigarette. They continued crossing all the while sneaking glances at me and the car.

The light turned green and hoped whatever waited for me at the bar wouldn't take up too much of my time. Those college girls reminded how hungry I was and I hadn't indulged in a particular hunger since my last night with HER. I reminded myself that it had been nearly a year and I was out of excuses. I couldn't tell myself there was something more important to do and bury myself in work forever. Just because I had gone twenty-one years before I shared a bed with a woman didn't mean I had to repeat that. I told myself I was letting HER win if I refrained.

Truth be told, Johanna had been throwing me massive hints that were impossible tp ignore that she wanted more than just harmless flirting whenever I entered the comic shop. She always seemed to find an excuse to touch me whether it was coming around the counter to give me a lingering hug or the way she stole glances out of the corner of her eyes not knowing I noticed her doing so. I could think of worse ways to get back on the horse, so to speak.

She had a beautifully toned body thanks to her self defense classes and her weekly trips to a gym. Her scent was as intoxicating as ever and I could just imagine how her blood would taste. I had the strangest theory that she was part fairy and that was the reason for her aluring aroma. The only scent more addictive and pleasant than Johanna was that fairy that SHE and I met on Halloween. It was clearly different and yet it was eeriely similar to Johanna. I never bothered figuring out if fairies could have children with normal humans or not, but if they could then it could stand to reason that either Johanna's grandparents or great grandparents had been either a full or half fairy. Too much fairy blood and I would have drained her dry the second I met her. Not to mention that any fairy worth thier salt would've certainly warned her about vampires and the danger of working in a large city at night. Since Johanna clearly found me desirable on some level, it was safe to assume she was unaware of vampires or any supernatural creature.

I continued thinking about Johanna, mostly involving her wrapping those strong legs around my waist as I sank my fangs into her soft sweet flesh, as I made a slight right onto Broadway. That was when a new song began to play. It was You Should Be Dancing by The Beegees. I took that as a sign. As soon as I was free of this secret 007 bullshit, I was going to find Johanna and we would, if she was interested, fuck like rabbits until the sun came up. I just hoped she didn't want anything serious. As much as I'd like going to the movies and catching a show on Broadway or take a night in and just cuddle on the couch, it wouldn't work in the long run. After all, she couldn't stay young forever. Then again, who knew? If she was part fairy maybe it meant an increased lifespan or something to that effect.

After honking the horn to signal the idiot in a Ford that the light was green, I sped up and went around him as we made a left onto Myrtle Avenue which was clear. With no one in front I smiled and felt my fangs tingle as I shifted into gear. I sped down until I threw myself into a right turn on Bushwick Avenue and I was rewarded with the sound of screeching tires and smell of burning rubber when I floored the accelerator. I couldn't keep it up for too long, not with the famous traffic of Manhattan. Two miles might seem like nothing, especially with a powerful car like a Trans Am, but I stayed on Bushwick for roughly half an hour. I tried switching back over to Broadway, but there was no difference. So I settled on enjoying on the music on the cassette which surprisingly was quite good.

I had more or less listened to the entire first side of my "Driving Mix" when I finally turned onto Fulton Street. By that time, I was listening to the tail end Peter Frampton's Signed Sealed Delivered, which was more or less the same as Stevie Wonder's, and wanting to be delivered from this congestion. At least it lessened significantly from then on since most merged onto Jamaica Avenue while I just crossed over it. I continued down Fulton and turned the cassette on its other side to see if anything had been recorded. I was rewarded with the funky beat that was Stevie Wonder's Higher Ground.

A mere ten minutes later I reached it.

A Patient Gentleman was what Edgar had said. It was an old looking diner directly in the middle of a parking lot. Except it was missing the heavily tinted windows. They were tinted, but just enough to be called tinted. I guess it was either a result of a witch's spell or my augment sight, possibly both. It definitely had some sort of repellant spell. No human set a foot in the parking lot and practically walked in the street alongside the curb whenever their path took them in front of it. They also seemed to go out of their way to ignore it as if they could not see it or rather saw an empty lot. SHE had mentioned that whenever a supernatural being opened any kind of establishment — bar, hotel, restaurant, etc — that catered only to other supernatural beings, it was crucial to find a witch or warlock to cast spells so no human wandered in off the street or had to be accompanied by a supernatural being. Spells would also be cast that prevented humans from speaking of the location or giving directions.

I pulled up to the front where a sign for valet parking sat. I stepped out and left the car running. I assumed the valets were retrieving a car or parking one. I decided to wait for them so I could receive a ticket, but I learned the valet parking wasn't what I had expected. The moment I closed the door, my new Trans Am took off by itself like the trucks in Maximum Overdrive. I watched for hardly five seconds before the car performed a three point turn expertly and gently parked itself in the row of spots closest to the street before the engine turned off. I looked and saw everything that had happened had happened in plain view of no less thirty humans. However, none of them reacted. Not a single one had given the impression they had just seen a self driving car possibly centuries before their invention. I assumed the magic also prevented humans from seeing anything that occurred in and around the parking lot.

"A self driving Trans Am." I mused. "Too bad I'm not David Hasselhoff."

As I lit another cigarette, I walked up the small set of stairs and entered A Patient Gentleman.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** - In case you're wondering why the bar is called A Patient Gentleman, it's an from an old Russian proverb._

_"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf."_


	8. Ductor & Jagerin

In hindsight, I probably should have heeded my own advice and gone in with a plan, but I suppose I did alright in the grand scheme.

I wasn't exactly certain on what to expect at a Supe bar. Warm blood on tap for vampire clientele? Perhaps cold blood in bottles like beer? Very rare steaks of venison or rabbit for Weres? A strict no silver and garlic policy?

Upon entering I saw it was an old fashioned diner that had been converted into a dive bar. Opposite of me, at the far end of the room, was the kitchen. Occasionally, one of three waitresses would enter through a pair of double doors and exit through another pair a few feet farther along the wall with trays of food. It wasn't anything complicated from the looks of it. Just your run of the mill fried bar food like mozzarella sticks, french fries, burgers and fried chicken sandwiches. I did see a steak here and there, but that was as fancy as it got. I caught the muffled sounds of metal on metal mixed with the unmistakable hum of a running and beeping microwave. It also reeked of cheap cigarette ash, stale beer, frying oil, and Were.

To my left were three pool tables that were currently occupied by several large men dressed in denim and leather like cliche bikers which struck me as odd since I did not see a single motorcycle in the parking lot. There were other men and some women in normal clothes sitting in chairs or leaning against the wall as they talked amongst themselves as they sipped from glasses and mugs of beer. On the far wall, behind the pool tables, was the bar with tough looking Were who looked disgusted at having to take money from a pair of vampires.

I looked to my right and saw a relatively empty dining area with ten small round tables in two rows of five and four chairs to each table. They were bolted to the ground,but the shaft was wooden rather than metal. Salt and pepper shakers sat in the middle of each with napkin dispensers and some were in need of cleaning. Two at the far end were covered in dirty plates with half eaten scraps of food and half empty mugs of beer, courtesy of the group of college Weres and Shifters. I gathered they were celebrating the end of the semester or just a typical night on the town.

"Hello." greeted a female voice doing nothing to hide her annoyed tone. "Just you?"

I turned my focus on a middle aged woman with an annoyed scowl on her thin face. Her hair was tied back and had small slivers of silver streaks of gray that stood out against her otherwise jet black hair. Her jewelry consisted of a wedding ring on her left ring finger and gold dots in her ears. Her make-up was simple and minimal. Her clothes were the same as the waitresses walking around. A white collared shirt with blue jeans and comfortable sneakers. Judging by her scent, she was a shifter rather than a Were.

"For now." I said politely. "I'm expecting a friend."

"Whatever." She said rolling her eyes. "Table or bar?"

"Bar." I said.

"It's over there." She pointed over her right shoulder with her thumb lazily. "Cash only and O neg's all we got." She then held out a hand. "And there's a ten buck cover charge for you vamps."

"Alright." I reached inside my coat and pulled out a twenty. "Keep the change."

"Thanks." She took my money and walked off.

I walked to the bar, ignoring the death stares I was receiving. The stares were easy to ignore, but the muttering wasn't. I figured that my involvement with Ryuu and Matthew had helped much in the way of Were/Vampire relations, but these Weres and Shifters looked like they were a few shots of bourbon and a suggestion away from sinking a stake into the nearest vampire. I pretended to be unperturbed as I waited for the bartender, a bald Were with a thick beard and wearing a sleeveless shirt, retrieved a lukewarm beer bottle filled with O negative from an incubater and opened it in front of me. I paid, twenty-five dollars with a five for the tip, and made my way to the unoccupied pool table near the front entrance.

I took a sip from the bottle and realized the blood was far from fresh, but still bearable. If Bubba could survive on cats blood and still be around for fifty years then I could make do for a night of stale lukewarm blood. I sat in a chair and gazed around in case Jagerin had already arrived. Instead, I was met with clear hostility from the biker gang at the other two tables. The others had more or less returned to their conversations, but in more hushed voices than before. I did not like the way the bikers were looking at me. They were just looking for an excuse to start a fight. I suppose with the full moon a week away that thier emotions were running high. Still, it was probably best to make them think twice.

I took another sip from my drink as I stood up and set the bottle down on the edge of the pool table. Then, like I had done it for centuries, plucked a cue and triangle off a mounted rack and began racking up the balls. I centered the balls and went to break. I positioned myself for my shot, but stopped myself. I made a show of frowning and rolling my eyes as I threw off my coat and draped it over the back of my chair. I resumed my previous position and took my shot. I pretended to watch the balls scattered in all direction, but I was more interested in their responses.

It seemed, like bright yellow skin of golden poison frog of Columbia, my tattoos were a clear warning. I slowly walked around the table, as if I was looking for a decent shot, so they all saw both the ancient Greek and Roman symbols painted into my flesh. Since the discovery of post vampiric tattoos was not even twelve hours old, it was only natural for the observer to assume that I was far older than I appeared. Of course they could just as easily assume that I had them done in the modern era and then turned, but who would be crazy enough to take the risk. Also, there was no etiquette issue in lying to Weres and Shifters about my age.

I continued to pass the time playing pool. I realized it was a relatively simple application of geometry and physics. That wasn't to say I made every shot I attempted and could compete with professionals. I missed more often than not and scratched, sank the white ball, even more. Still, I learned quickly as I paused to drink and watch the door for another vampire to enter. The two that had been at the bar when I entered left and we nodded to each other. I signaled a passing waitress who nodded and brought me a second bottle of blood.

"Thank you." I said placing a hundred on her tray. "Keep 'em coming."

"Can I ask question?" She said while she whisked the empty bottle. "If you don't mind."

"You just did, but I understood what you meant." I responded as I lined up a shot. "Ask away, but I can't guarantee you like the answer."

"Are those real?"

I paused and looked up at her. She was younger than the waitress with the less than welcoming attitude that had so graciously greeted me. She looked to be about my age. That was to say early twenties or so. Her eye were brown and matched her short cropped hair. She was cute in an innocent kind of way. Judging by her scent, she was a shifter and not a large one.

"Wow," I chuckled. "Not everyday a female asks a male that."

"I meant your tattoos." She clarified sounding annoyed.

"Tattoo . . ." I stood up and pretended to look puzzled for a moment. "You mean my stigmas, no? The ink in my flesh?"

"Yes."

"My apologies." I politely inclined my head. "This language sometimes escapes me. To answer your question, yes they are genuine as it is impossible for my kind to alter our bodies in anyway." I tilted my head. "Why the curiosity? You wish to know the meaning behind them?"

"If you don't mind." She said. "I'm taking symbology class at Queens College. We just Roman symbology."

"Nice to see my people are not forgotten." I smiled slightly. "I'm afraid I am in short supply of time, but I will answer what I can."

"Thank you." She said. "My name is Maria."

"It is a pleasure, Maria. " I said and introduced myself pronouncing my new identity as only a true roman would. "You may call me Luke."

"Luke?" She repeated.

"Yes." I nodded once. "It is short for my true name. My full name is *Lucius Fabius Pulcher.*

"I see." Maria nodded. "The one on your right. What dose those mean?"

"Ah." I said. "Are you familiar with the mark of the legion?"

"I think so." Maria began writing on a pad that she used for drink orders. "That's the name for the letters SPQR found on standards, right?"

"Yes and no." I said. "It was the popular motto of Rome, but it is not the mark of the legion." I pointed to my arm. "This is, quite literally, the mark of the legion. I believe it is similar to what soldiers refer to as dog tags. It was merely a quick method to distinguish soldiers from civilians."

"Alright." she motioned to me. "And what do those mean specifically?"

"Leg is an abbreviation of **legio**, legion. The X the symbol for **decem**, ten." I explained. "Together they mean Legio Decima or the Tenth Legion. So any man with this inked into his flesh meant he either was part of or served in the Tenth Legion."

"And the rest?" Maria asked eagerly. "Gem and PFD?"

"GEM is merely short for ***Gemina*** . It was what you call a nickname. Augustus stripped the legion of its former name, ***Equestris*** which meant mounted, after a rebellion and rebaptized it Gemina." I paused as Maria wrote quickly. "PFD is short for ****Pia Fidelis Domitiana**** which means 'faithful and loyal to Domitian'."

"Hey, Maria!" called one of the bikers. "Another pitcher of beer over here."

"Right away!" She turned to me. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." I said with a small smile.

With that she quickly trotted off to the bar for a new pitcher. I thought perhaps they did want a nice girl like her getting mixed up with a vamp like me, but a cursory glance told me they just wanted another pitcher of beer and stare at her ass as she retrieved it. I returned back to my game and waited.

An hour passed and I had another blood, which was I debating to be my last, when I felt it. At first I wasn't certain if I had imagined it or not. A moment passed and realized I hadn't. I could not put it into words exactly, but at best I could attribute akin to a part of me was growing closer. I shook my head, but it didn't help in the slightest and neither did draining the bottle of blood. Then a thought rang clear in my head like bolt of lighting against the pitch black night sky. It wasn't my body calling out, but it was my blood and there was only one thing that was capable of doing that.

SHE was coming.

My mind raced with questions and possible answers only to be replaced and mixed with plans and variables. The problem was that I was feeling something I hadn't felt in some time. Fear. What did SHE want? What was HER plan? What did it mean for me? Had SHE put two and two together and figured I was the Ductor? Was I attracting too much attention in HER eyes? Was SHE here to make me leave the city?

I drained my bottle of blood in an attempt to clear my head and calm my blood, when the door opened. I spared a glance and saw a skinny, jittery man enter. He clearly hadn't groomed or even showered by the looks of his unkempt hair and disheveled busy beard that had white and gray mixed into the copper brown. His jeans were so worn they were almost as white as the snow outside and resembled Swiss cheese with its various holes. His shoes were not much better and I half expected to see a toe poke through. He wore a tattered sweatshirt with so many different stains that it took a second glance to realize it had once been black instead of the lighist gray that it was. Under that was white cotton T-shirt with half faded old stains that could only come from an odd mixture of car fluids and spilled food. Ignoring the rancid body odor and the stale clothing, he stank of two things. Wet dog and fear. That told me two things. He was a Were and something was chasing him and it had to be significant to scare a Were.

He was breathing hard as he scanned the bar and his eyes went wide when they landed on me. He glanced back outside before returning to me as if he was torn between entering and bolting. So a vampire was chasing him, but why? Was SHE chasing him? I pretended to lose interest and returned to my pool game. It must have done the trick because I heard the sound of someone running past my table to where the biker were.

"Ya gotta help me!" he said.

"Whoa!" answered another gruffer voice. "Carl? That you?"

"Please, Earl!" begged whom I assumed was Carl.

"Whadda ya doing here?" answered Earl. "Last I saw, ya were livin' it up in Orleans."

"They're after me!" Carl cried. "Ya gotta hide me."

"Who's after you?" Earl asked. "What have gone and done now?"

"Later!" Carl panted. "Please. I haven't slept or anything for days."

That was then my blood suddenly went quiet. One moment it was the roaring maw of Charybdis then the next it went quiet as the vacuum of space. I could suddenly think clearly and felt like I had before. I didn't know how or why it ceased, but I had an idea. Then the door opened and someone quietly stepped in. I looked to see if my theory was true. I didn't know it then, but I was only half right in expecting HER.

She looked as if she had stepped off the set of a western. She wore long light brown tanned leather duster. Truth be told, it wasn't much different from the one I had draped over a chair. The only real difference was her had seen much more than mine, possibly a century or two, and mine sported a design inspired. Hers, on the other hand, was the genuine article. Not mention mine was black as night instead of the more natural tanned color. Instead of sneakers or work boots, she wore cowboy boots and half expected to see metal spurs. Judging by their high sheen and immense lack of wear and tear, not to mention the pelican image carved into the leather, I was certain they were simply modern boots mimicking the style of decades past. Tucked into those boots were tight looking denim jeans that left little to imagination as to the shape of her strong muscled thighs.

As my gaze drifted upward, I saw she wore a simple pristine white blouse, but it was offset by the empty rawhide bandolier running down her right shoulder to her left hip settled between her breasts. I honestly wondered how she avoided attracting attention. Then again, she could simply say she was on an off-broadway play although she seemed the type to shoot rather than wore a hat that cast a shadow over her face. It looked as if a ring of claws ran along and rested on the brim.

Then, without warning, she looked directly at me.

Her skin was the color of warm caramel chocolate, but her expression was anything but. Her eyes were the same shade and color of her skin, but they were cold as they scanned the room like an eagle searching for a rabbit as it scampered for cover. She wore little to no make-up, but she was still very beautiful in a stoic warrior amazon kind of way. She had tied her long coffee colored curls back in a small half-hearted tail as if she was more concerned with keeping hair out of the way than her appearance.

In that briefest of moments, we both came to an immense discovery. The reason our blood was calling to each other was not because our makers were close by. No, we did not simply share blood with a our makers but with each other.

I had a sister.

Not only that, but I had an insane thought she might the Jagerin in my mysterious message.

"Shit!" cried Carl.

I whipped my head to where I had last seen the bikers. Carl had his hand in Earl's vest and desperately searching for something. It took Earl half of second to notice and push him away. When he did, I saw what Carl had been reaching for. A nine millimeter Glock pistol came out from behind Earl, probably tucked in the back of pants rather than proper holster, in Carl' hand as he yanked it free and whipped around to aim.

Suddenly a shot erupted and the Glock flew from his hand in mist of blood. A second shot quickly followed the second and Carl's left ankle exploded in a similar fashion only with less blood and more bone. Needless to say, Carl cried out in agony as he fell to the ground where he stood hardly half a second after the Glock. I turned to see my sister, that was going to take some getting used to, thumb back the hammer on a third generation Single Action Army Colt Revolver just as the other bikers reached for their pieces. They froze with their hands in their vest or behind their waists when they realize they had been too slow on the draw. To my surprise not a single scream. That was usually happened when someone fires a gun, right? There is always at least one person, usually a young woman or child, who screams at the sound of a gunshot. Or maybe I've watched too much television and films in my time.

"Now think real hard." She spoke with slightest hint of a southern drawl. "I've been chasing this one for quite some time now and quite frankly I wouldn't mind a corpse of him."

"Please!" Carl half sobbed half shouted. "No!"

"But I was hired to bring him back alive." She continued. "I've no quarrel with you. Now you can return to your drinks and pool, but if your hands touch metal I swear I will end you."

"Who are you?" Earl demanded.

"My name will not mean much to you." She said. "But I am known as Jagerin."

"Aw shit." Earl sighed and motioned for his friends to slowly lower their hands. "Stand down, boys."

"Fuck that!" snapped one of them.

"I suggest you do as the lady says." I said as I casually picked my cue and resumed playing. "Wars have been started over less."

"Mind your own business!" Earl barked.

"New York is my business." I sank a ball in a pocket. "And no one came out unscathed the last time there was a war between north and south."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Earl growled.

"Look at her boots. Full grain leather. Clearly customized and hand made. Impossible to produce en masse." I said as I lined up a shot. "Any newer and they'd still be warm." I took my shot and sank another. "Last time I checked, Louisiana used that same image on their state flag."

"Your point?"

"The price on his head was given by her majesty Queen Sophie-Anne of Louisiana." Jagerin said calmly as looked at me curiously. "For the crime of espionage and theft and I have been tracking him since Jackson. So I am no mood."

"Your choice." I said leaning against the cue and looking bored. "Even by some miracle you manage to kill her, which I highly doubt unless you make it a point to never leave your home without a crossbow, you'll be solely responsible for an international incident between New York and Louisiana with neither monarch being particularly fond of you." I shrugged. "That's provided her maker doesn't hunt you down first."

The entire bar was silent, except for Carl's half choke sobs, as the biker mulled it over. He clearly took the hint when those near him stepped away from him so not catch a stray bullet. Once he saw that, he slowly removed his hand

"Sorry for the mistake." He grumbled.

"No problem." I half smiled. "Whenever I make an unintentional mistake, I just remember that Caligula intentionally declared war on Neptune and ordered his army to the beach and stab the water."

"Here!" Jagerin tossed him a pair of handcuffs. "Make yourself useful."

He reluctantly walked to Carl and handcuffed his arms behind his back. Jagerin twirled her gun up so it slide effortlessly back into its holster on her right hip. She walked up to me and seemed to be evaluating me as she did so. No doubt she felt a draw to me as I did her. For their sake, and no doubt eager to not be the center of Jagerin's attention, everyone went back to what they had been doing. Several quickly threw down some money on a table and hastily left. I pretended to go back to my pool game as if I had seen more entertaining things in my time.

"I appreciate your assistance." She said flatly. "Although I am curious as to why."

"Things have been tense to say the least among us and the other two natured." I said before sinking the 3 ball that had been mocking me for most of the night. "At least as far as the city and Long Island are concerned." I stood up and faced. "So do you have a name or do I just call you Jagerin?"

"I do." She gazed around. "But I'd prefer to talk some place more private."

"And him?" I flicked my eyes towards Carl. "Turn him into the nearest sheriff?"

"No." She said. "He is wanted in Louisiana not New York City. If I was still in the kingdom I could, but that is not the case."

"First off, I was joking." I informed her. "Second, you can just say New York and locals will know what you mean the city."

"How?"

"Same way you can live in the Bronx, but on Long Island." I said. "They have their ways of saying things."

"I see."

"So what do you plan to do with him."

"I did not come here alone."

"A partner in crime?"

"No. Sophie-Anne sent him on another assignment. It just so happens our destinations were the same." She looked over to Carl, still bleeding where he fell. "I can send him back to Louisiana with him. I've always served her well in the past. She will hold onto my reward until next I call on her."

"Alright." I laid the cue on the table and slipped on my coat. "I have a car out front. I need to pick up someone on Long Island. We can talk on the ride — "

I was cut off as something thin and long pierced a window and buried itself in my left pectoral. It must have been traveling at an immense speed because I had barely registered the cracking of a window before I was shoved against the wall and slid down to the floor. A moan escaped from me as I looked down to see a crossbow quarrel bolt protruding from my chest. I tapped the end and hissed a bolt of pain shot through my chest.

"Oh come on." I groaned.

It was then I was aware the Jagerin was kneeling by me and looking concerned. To my surprise, she looked she was about to cry. It was massive shift from the hard as nails warrior woman that had entered a few minutes ago.

"_Nein_!" She hissed.

"Three actually." I pushed myself up and yanked out the bolt. She instantly went to support me. "Not that it matters to most."

"_Unmöglich_!" She exclaimed. "How are — "

I pushed hard away to my right as I scrambled left. Hardly a half a second later another bolt landed with a thud in the wall where I had been. I ducked under a table which did not provide me with much cover other than the thin wooden pole that held up the table. I looked up to see the diner was being stormed by more bikers which meant the diner was sound-proof both ways since I did not hear a single engine approach and it only made sense to sound proof to avoid unwanted attention from outside. I quickly looked to where my sister had gone and she was reaching into her duster, no doubt to draw her pistol, but our attackers had the drop on her.

Without thinking, I stood up and snatched the table top right off and hurled it her attackers like a Frisbee. I did not bother watching as I raced to her, snatching up the cue I had left on the table. It could have looked more impressive if I had practiced for centuries. The table tap clocked the closest to her right in the side of his head. He went down like rock as did the crossbow in his hands. The one behind managed to turn to see my swing the cue, cracking the ending off, in a wide arc across his face. He went down easily enough although I surmise it was my strike combined with colliding with the edge of a chair on the way down. The third, and final in the little group advancing on my sister, I drove the point of the now broken cue stick like a makeshift spear through his lower abdomen just above his groin.

I yanked the stick out and kicked him away. Despite the fair amount of blood I had drunken that night, the way the delectable fluid coated the end of the stick and sweet scent of terror from its source made me ravenous. I licked my lips and swallowed hard as I fought the urge to give in to my baser urges. It made things much more difficult as the patrons had finally gotten the hint and decided to call it a night and began heading out the back door in the kitchen including Earl and his comrades. I imagine a cat would have a similar experience in a run down building filled with rodents.

"Thank you." Jagerin said from behind me followed by the click of two hammers. "I did not expect so many would be after Carl."

"Any chance I can convince you to cut your losses and leave?" I asked as more began to enter slowly and like trained police team rather storming like first wave had. "It's not like you need to redecorate your kitchen."

"No!" She said firmly. "I have not let a bounty escape since I was alive and do not intend to start now."

"I figured as much." I growled.

I closed my eyes. We needed a plan and quick.

* * *

><p><strong>( In Sanctum Sanctorum )<strong>

_I thought back to when I first entered the bar and opened my eyes. Whomever these new enemies were, they had come prepared. Crossbows told me not only they expected to fight vampires, but that most certain;y meant a fair number of them. Even the weakest vampire could take out several Weres and Shifters. History is full of stories of weaker opponents defeating much stronger ones by simply employing surprises and quickly following through so not to let the enemy to gather their senses._

_First step, break their momentum._

_I took the same path I did when I entered. I skipped my conversation with the shifter waitress and continued on. I slowed down when I passed the bikers and stopped in front of them. I could see the glint of polished metal from under thier clothes along with subtle bulges in places that were absent. At least four handguns with, assuming their were all unmodified Glock pistols like Earl's, a total of sixty rounds if they were fully loaded. However, Earl and his fellow bikes had left and hadn't bothered to offer them to me. So shooting our way out was off the table. It was a gamble anyway with my severe lack of experience with firearms in general._

_I continued my mental retracing and found myself at the bar. I muffled the sound of the bartender and the conversations of other around me and focused to the items in my vicinity. A few broken beer mugs and bottles could provide some makeshift caltrops, but would completely negated by a pair of cheap boots. The cash register might have proved useful by throwing its contents into the air if I hadn't already killed three of their members. Everyone has thier price, but it's usually not the amount that can be found in dive bar's register even if all of its compartments were filled to the brim with hundred dollar bills._

_Then I saw it when the bartender replaced a bottle on the shelf behind him. I smiled at the simplicity of it all and had the sudden urge for a cocktail. A certain particular cocktail of Finnish origin._

* * *

><p>I opened my eyes and returned, mentally, to The Patient Gentleman at the present. Hardly a second had passed, but more bikers had entered and had thier crossbows aimed in our direction. They were understandably keeping their distance.<p>

"I have a plan, but we need to work together." I asked as I adjusted my grip on my impromptu shield. "That gonna be a problem?"

"I've worked with worse." She countered and a slight smile that was all too familiar.

"Good!" I looked over to where we needed to be. "Race you to the bar!"

We took off like sprinters at the sound of a referee's starter gun. I was vaguely aware of someone yelling the sound of bolts burying themselves in the walls to my left or shattering the various unlucky beer bottles or cocktail glasses. It was not a straight path to the bar, but all things considered it might have been a blessing in disguise.

We moved like a seasoned team despite having spent less then five minutes together.

As I slid underneath a pool table, she vaulted over the top like the Duke brothers Dukes of Hazard . I came up and blocked three bolts with my tabletop shield as soon as we cleared the pool table. Without a word or signal, I pivoted to my left and she quickly fired a two shots from her pistol to force them to duck for cover. She had barely taken three steps past me before I chucked my broken pool cue like I had seen done at the Olympics. It didn't kill any, unfortunately, but it cause the unfortunate recipient to drop his weapon to clutch his knee and fall backwards on a couple of his comrades. I used the opportunity to hop over the bar and sat low next to Jagerin.

"So?" I said as I yanked pile of towels just above my head down to the floor. "Ever have a Long Island Iced Tea?"

"Now what?" She demanded as held up her pistol.

"I take it these are friends of yours?" I quickly snatched a half filled bottle of Absinthe, which has been outlawed for almost a century and had probably cost a pretty penny to buy and had most likely required a bribe to an inspector of some kind, and cheap vodka that smelled strongly like paint thinner. "If so, you southerners have a funny way of showing it."

"The Hounds of Hell." She responded. "They are Were biker gang based in Mississippi. They did not take kindly to the king, Russell Edgington, placing a bounty on one of their members and myself even less for claiming it some years ago. They must have begun following me when I passed through chasing Carl."

"And this the New York chapter?" I tore a rag in half before soaking in liquor and stuffing it down the neck of the vodka and absinth bottle. "That's what they call the different parts of the same group, right? Chapters?"

"There is only one chapter. They are not that many in number."

"I beg to differ." I snatched another bottle, Bacardi 151, and repeated the process once I removed the flame arrester. "Then again, it's not hard to beat two."

"What is your plan?!" She hissed at me flashing her fangs.

"On my signal, head for the kitchen." I told her while I opened a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and stuffed a rag in the neck. "I'll cover you."

"Here!" She offered her pistol.

"Keep it!" I got to my feet and squatted low. "I'm not very good proficient with them anyway."

"Then how will — "

"By showing them the north isn't lacking in hospitality." I pulled out my lighter and lit the rag on the vodka and absinthe bottle. "It just became happy hour!"

When faced with a superior force, you can really do all of two things. First option, you can retreat quietly to regroup which was out of the question. The second option, you can attack with as much fanfare as possible and make it seem they underestimated you and capitalize on their hesitation. Each has its advantages, but you can't beat the rush and fun of option two. In this particular case, the fanfare was Molotov cocktails.

A Molotov cocktail also known as a petrol bomb, poor man's grenade, just Molotov, is a generic name used for any bottle-based improvised incendiary weapon. Due to the relative ease of production, they are frequently used by protesters and non-professionally equipped fighters in riots and urban guerrilla warfare. They are primarily intended to set targets ablaze rather than instantly destroy them. Normally fuels like gasoline or kerosene are used, but anyone who paid attention in high school chemistry knows roughly any liquor that is eighty proof or higher can get the job done. Or any bartender that has served a flaming B-52 shot.

I shot to my feet as Jagerin dashed to the kitchen door. They were about halfway to the bar when I tossed the bottle of vodka. It sailed over their heads and exploded in mass of red, yellow, and orange with the sound of shattering glass. Naturally, they surged forward with part of the wall, a nearby table, and some of the floor caught. I responded quickly with the absinthe bottle and engulfed the floor directly in front of them in a blueish hue that quickly turned a reddish orange once it began to burn the floor.

"Jesus Christ!" one of the cried.

"Last call, boys!" I laughed and thoroughly enjoying the terror and havoc I was causing. "There's plenty for everyone!"

Some of them responded loosing their crossbow at me. Now that I saw them coming, it was easy to avoid them by ducking behind the bar. I used the opportunity to light the rag on the bourbon and rum. Without looking or standing as to give them a target, I lobbed the bourbon over the bar and I was reward with the panicked screams and howls of pain half a second later. I looked down and regretted on not making a couple more, but I told myself that the point wasn't to win and only by my sister and I time to think of a more suitable plan. I quickly stood and saw at least two were on fire and rolling on the floor in an attempt to extinguish the flames. Four were helping the two on the floor while several stomped out the flames around them and a few looked overwhelmed at the chaos

I looked over to where the kitchen was and I saw Jagerin observing behind the door she left cracked open. I tossed the rum bottle just behind the two padding their rolling comrades and made dash for the kitchen just as I heard the bottle shattered followed by more screams. I entered the kitchen and barely had enough time to avoid being crushed by a refrigerator as Jagerin pushed it in front of the door.

"Something tells me they're going to forgo appetizers and skip to the main course." I said. "Can't imagine why."

"Is everything funny to you?" She demanded.

"Funny things are." I responded.

"We made it to the kitchen. What is the rest of the plan?"

"No idea." I began looking around.

"What?!"

"That's the trouble with my ideas. They only come a bit at a time."

"So those Molotovs were merely for fun?!"

"Time." I corrected. "The fun was an unexpected bonus." I turned to face her. "Are you sure you don't want to just leave Carl? The door is literally right there!" I pointed to the door marked exit five feet away from her.

"No." She folded her arms in front her and gave me a look that dared to me argue. "And cease asking!"

"Fine!" I snapped.

I had, maybe, a full minute to devise a way to deal a very large and very angry biker gang as I gazed around the kitchen. It was a standard one as kitchens went. Two stove-tops with ovens sat next to each other flushed against the wall. A deep fryer separated a small grill from the the far end, opposite Jagerin and I, was a three sink dish washing system with a small automated dishwasher for silverware tucked in the corner. In the opposite corner was cabinet. Clean pots and pans hung overhead on a ceiling mounted rack for easy use. Opposite the stove-tops was an old looking griddle that cooks probably used to fry bacon or pancakes. In between the griddle and stove-top was order prep station which cooks had prepped food ,like sliced onions or tomatoes in small metal compartments, with two shelves. One shelf had two stacks of different size plates, one large one smaller, next to a microwave.

I recalled the time I took apart the microwave in my home and I had an idea. I had only one to work with so best I did not make a mistake.

"How long do you think you can hold them off?" I asked.

"Not as long as I'd like to admit." She responded. "Eventually they will overpower me and push the refrigerator away from the door.

"And you won't do much with only a single shot."

She drew her pistol and checked the chamber. "Yes."

"Anymore?"

"No." She said reluctantly. "I have more ammunition along with more weapons, but it is in a case I hid outside before I entered."

"Are you an idiot?" I asked flatly.

"Excuse me?" She growled.

"Hold on, Let me rephrase." I snapped. "You're an idiot! Who loads a single gun and thinks it'll be enough?!"

"I did not count of the Hounds of Hell!" She snarled.

"And British didn't count on Washington crossing the Delaware!" I paused. "We'll argue later. Just hold them as long as you can. Take some out if you can."

"How?!"

"With this!" I drew my sword from inside my coat and handed it to her. "Try stabbing through the door. Watch the edge, it's silver."

"Why did you not use this before?" She took the sword and growled at me.

"Swords and knives don't scare like they used to." I said. "But if you want to try your luck and see if they had time to bring silver bullets, be my guest."

"Fine."

"Good."

I took the microwave from the shelf and unplugged it from the wall. I tore the side panel, cutting my hand which I ignored, and exposed the inner electronics. Microwaves are one of the most dangerous appliances In the home to repair or modify, something I learned the hard way, but I might be to turn its extremely high voltage to my advantage. It took me a moment, but I found and removed a the surge inhibitor along with the two back up ones. The surge inhibitor was exactly what the name implied. It was meant to prevent the microwave from overloading in the event of a massive power surge.

I rushed to the cabinet opposite the automated dishwasher. It had a lock, but whomever was in charge of doing so probably had more important things to attend to. It was filled with prepacked herbs and spices like dried rosemary and black pepper which I took to mean this cabinet served as the spice rack. There were three shelves. The top was for spices and premixed seasonings with the second was devoted to herbs and the like. The final shelve, which was above a large space that held stacks of aprons, had a dozen of spray cans. Upon closer examination I saw there were two kinds. Some were generic cheap cooking sprays like Pam and the rest were label Grill degreaser spray. I picked up the degreaser and read the ingredients.

"Whatever you are planning, do it quickly." Jagerin yanked my sword from the door before shoving it back in. "They know we're here."

I did not waste time looking up or speaking. I grabbed a half dozen of random cans and threw them into the microwave and followed it with a fistful of silverware. I closed the door and removed my belt from my pants. I wrapped it tight around the door of the microwave so it would take a bit more force to open it. I carefully picked it up and plugged it into the wall, silenly thanking my luck one was so close by, before setting down by the door. I got behind and helped Jagerin hold the refrigerator.

"Give me the sword." I said and she wordlessly handed it over.

"Now what?" She demanded as the sword disappereaed behind my neck.

"On my signal, we both head to the exit." I motioned with my head to the door behind us. "And we need to take this with us. At least till we reach the door."

"I told you. I am not running away."

"We're not running away." I snapped. "At least not for more than fifteen seconds. After that, you can pick off the stranglers and scoop up Carl."

"Really?"

"Not if you keep asking questions every step of the way!" I hissed. "Well?"

"On your signal." She nodded once.

"Hold this for a moment."

I rushed to the microwave, turned the door towards the entrance, and hit "Popcorn".

"Now!" I shouted.

I returned to my sister and we effortlessly dragged the refrigerator. The screeching sound it produced made my teeth and ears scream in agony, but I pushed it aside. We found ourselves outside. I allowed myself a quick glace around and saw we were to the right of small loading dock with an old looking railing and gate prevented those walking along the edge from falling. Directly behind us was a small set of concrete stars, perfectly devoid of snow and properly salted, which lead out to small parking lot. It seemed that whomever designed the building had chosen to build the diner first and figure out the parking situation afterward.

Then suddenly, we felt a strong force pull the refrigerator away from us.

"Well?" Jagerin hissed quietly to me.

"Wait for it." I did a quick mental count and then began counting aloud. "Four . . . three . . . two . . ."

"Anyone hear a buzzing?" called out voice.

"Forget it!" barked another. "Help us with this!"

We felt another powerful pull, but we held on tight.

_**BOOOOOM!**_

This time we felt a massive push instead of pull at the same time we felt a powerful vibration through the ground the refrigerator. The force of the explosion must have been quite powerful because it shook the building enough to loosen the icicles and sending crashing to the floor where they shattered like glass.

"Sounds quiet enough." I said calmly. "I'm parked out front. We'll scoop up Carl and be gone before the fire department arrives."

She nodded once and shoved the refrigerator back in so it crashed to the floor with a very loud bang. She drew a knife from inside her duster and climbed in without looking back at me. I climbed in and surveyed my handiwork.

I counted roughly ten in total had been inside the kitchen when my improvised bomb went off. Judging by the bloody lumps of burnt flesh and singed clothes, four were standing right next to it and the silverware shrapnel had ripped through them like tissue paper. Two, now under it, had been trying to move the refrigerator and had fared slightly better since the four had taken the brunt of the force and shrapnel, but the difference was negligible. At least they were recognizable, if you squinted and had actually known them before. The other four had been standing on the other side of kitchen either behind or by the now destroyed steel prep station. Not a single burn on them. Their deaths had been the result of debris, either shrapnel from the bomb itself or the force of explosion shooting anything not severely bolted down into the air like machine gun fire, entering their bodies and tearing their major organs to pieces.

Anyone else might feel some form of remorse, but I did not. They had attacked without warning and had tried to harm me and my sister. For that they deserved no mercy. I wasn't sure why I felt so protective of her. We had spent all of fifteen minutes together and the only thing we had in common was that we shared the same maker. This is completely and vastly different than the protective feeling I had for my brother when I had been alive. This was much more primal and took effort to put into words.

"What did do you?" she asked shocking me out of my inner thoughts.

"I made a bomb." I told her.

"I can see that. I meant how."

"Most humans are unaware how microwaves work except that it warms their food." I explained. "Without going into massive detail, there are several parts that prevent it from overloading. I just removed them and added pressurized cans which even children know not to puncture or leave them near extremely high temperature or they will explode." I motioned to the dishwasher. "A fistful of silverware for shrapnel and then just press popcorn after you seal it tight which I did with my belt."

She seemed to accept my explanation and began policing the bodies for weapons and seeing if they had any ammunition compatible with her revolver. I exited the kitchen and saw the bar hadn't burned as badly as I thought it would. Any and all fire had gone out and only scorch marks and scent of burnt wood were left. There was only body and it was the still breathing Carl who was three quarters of the way to the front door. He had left a smeared trail of blood across the floor like some sort of bleeding snail or slug. I snatched up a half empty bottle of gin and some bar towels. He caught sight of me as I came from around the bar.

"No!" He cried. "Nonononono!"

"Relax." I used my vampiric speed to reach him and offered him the bottle. "Drink this. Trust you'll need it." He just stared at me then at the bottle and back at me. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."

"Th-thanks." He took the bottle and drank deeply from it.

"That's enough." I took the bottle back and soaked a towel. "Now give me your hand." He hesitated. "Or you can take your chances getting an infection and losing it."

Naturally, he held out his hand and I quickly cleaned it with the gin soaked towel. He winced here and there, but he was otherwise quiet. I bandaged his hand with a dry towel and began cleaning the wound on his ankle. Once I finished cleaning, I handed him the bottle and gratefully accepted. It was impossible not to stain my hands with his blood and it just as impossible to have a taste. Truth be told, it was a step above the stale lukewarm the bar had served me earlier, but I've had better. God only knew what kind of chemicals were in his blood. His teeth and scent screamed he was a heavy smoker, both classic tobacco and marijuana, and there were several heavier drug that could explain his unnaturally thin frame.

"Why do you bother?" Jagerin asked as she walked up to me from behind.

"I've literally owned my car for less than twenty-four hours." I said firmly. "If I wanted red leather then I would have had it installed when I bought it."

"I see." She said.

"Good." I stood up. "Because you're carrying him."

"Excuse me?"

"The bullet shattered his ankle. He can't walk on it." I explained. "Your bullet. Your bounty. Your burden."

Without a word, she slug him over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Carl had practically finished the bottle at this point so his sense of pain had been severely numbed. I wondered if that was why he had finished it so quickly or it was due to knowing that he would soon be turned over to vampire royalty to be tortured and kill. Knowing that, and having the option, I'd probably drink anything if it meant not having to dwell on it for even the briefest moment.

I exited first and saw four more Weres armed with crossbows. These were not more Hounds of Hell. Everything about they screamed military. Their clothes were casual, but armed forces casual. They wore matching perfectly pressed urban camouflage cargo pants and high calf black combat boots polished to a mirror shine. Their wore open sweatshirt over wrinkle free black polo shirts. Each of their heads sported a very thin crew cuts that were barely a step above shaved and their faces were barren of facial hair. The rest of their bodies were the optimal shape of thin and compact with the just the right amount of muscle so not to be confused for scrawny like I could be.

"Ignore them." I whispered so quietly only Jagerin could hear me. "Just walk to the black and gold car and put him in the trunk."

"As you say." She responded just as quietly.

"Just who the hell are you?" demanded whom I assumed was the leader in a southern accent.

"So much for that stereotype." I chuckled as I walked to my car and motioned to the trunk to Jagerin. "That one right there."

That was when they all aimed their crossbows at her.

"Not so fast, hon." said the leader. "Carl there is gonna be coming with us. Just bring him over here nice and slow."

Like I had told her to, she ignored them and popped the trunk.

"Actually, he'll be going with her." I paused. "Well, technically us, but you get the point."

"And just who are you?" He asked again.

"Have things really changed that much?" I casually turned my head to ask Jagerin. "I was under the impression that it was good manners to introduce oneself before asking another."

"The name's Flood." The leader growled. "First Lieutenant Flood of the United States Air Force."

"Thank you." I said. "Was that so hard?"

"You know, it ain't too wise to make a man look foolish." Flood warned.

"You don't need my help for that."

"Don't you mock me, boy!" He snapped.

"I mock." I shrugged. "I'm a mocker." I began counting on my fingers. I'm also a grinner, a lover, and a sinner. "

"Just tell me who the fuck you are before you start looking like a porcupine!"

"All you had to was ask." I held a hand out and smiled. "Hello, I'm the Ductor."

Word must travel fast I realized. The moment I said "Ductor" their eyes went wide for a moment before they cursed under their breath and looked to Flood for orders. While I had no desire to be shot again in the same night, better me than my sister. Not only did I have my chain mail duster on, my discardia was still a well known secret.

"Please, point a gun at me if it helps you relax." I said smugly. "you're only human."

They seem to agree and I was suddenly in the cross hairs of four crossbows.

"You're shittin' me." Flood seemed unwilling to risk it being possible. "This is the famous Ductor that has the Weres north of Virginia running with their tails between their legs?" He gave me quick once over. "I ain't impressed."

"Then you haven't seen me blindfolded and juggle bowling balls while drinking a glass of water." I scoffed. "Not surprisingly, the water is the hard part."

"Uh, sir?" one of Flood's men leaned over and whispered. "Ain't no one ever said exactly what the Ductor looks like. All anyone can seem to agree on is that he's probably some kind of roman general. People didn't live so long back then."

"He is correct." I told him. "It involved a fair amount long speeches and ceremonies, but you were considered an adult at fourteen or so. The Liberalia they called it" I paused as if I remembered something. "For the boys at least. My people weren't exactly known for their views on equal rights."

"That still don't prove you are the Ductor!" Flood snapped and most likely angry I had eavesdropped. "No one knows that he looks like."

"Fair enough." I took off my coat and held it out to Jagerin. "Hold this for a moment, would you?"

She looked puzzled, but took the coat in her hands. I winked and walked to right up to Flood and his men. Well, I kept five feet away to avoid agating any itch trigger fingers. Time for the ultimate test of my new intimidation strategy.

"Can you see me clearly?" I asked.

"Yeah." Flood answered.

"Then can you tell me what this is?" I turned to left and showed them my mark of the legion. "As a solider, you should know."

"It's a tattoo. Big deal. I got a few too." Flood examined it critically. "Oh!"

"Good." I nodded when the shoe dropped and turned to offer my left arm. "This is should be easier."

"Fuck." He said simply. "He ain't lying."

"Ya sure, sir?" asked one of the men.

"That tattoo on his right used to be called the mark of legion." Flood explained. "The nuns in Sunday school drilled latin into our heads as kids and those lettesr on top mean the "Tenth Legion". Since vamps can't get tattoo after they've been turned so he got his when he was alive back when he was fighting fer Augustus.

"Smart man." I crossed my arms.

"This don't concern you none, Ductor." Floor said doing a good job of hiding the fear in voice, but could not hide it in his rapid heartbeat. "This is between Carl and the rest of his pack. Strictly Were business."

"No it isn't." I said firmly. "The queen of Louisiana placed a bounty on Carl's head. I don't involve myself in politics, but your men made it personal."

"You son of a bitch!" snapped one of them. "What did you do with them?"

"They're either dead or dying." I said coldly. "Want to join them?"

"Say that again." He said low and took careful aim at my left pectoral. "I dare you."

"Please," I sneered. "Did you honestly think you were gonna come in with your little crossbows and suedo para military training and somehow end more twenty-five hundred years of survival?"

"Did you say twenty-five hundred?" He asked clearly having second thoughts.

"Well, I'm counting my maker and he fought at Thermopylae beside Leonidas himself. He's the reason for this!" I turned slightly to display my lambda. "His own personal crest that the locals adopted as their own and the same one your armed forces use to distinguish rank."

"We didn't know you were in there." Flood said. "I assure you that if we did — "

"But my sister was." I stared dagger at him

"Oh shit." Flood swallowed hard.

"So here's the thing. I'm not entirely sure what stories your kind have been spreading about my accomplishments and feats, but what you really need is some context. For the most part, through my entire existence, until this very minute, my default setting has been what humans say now as "half-assed" But that was before I realized my maker graced me with a sibling. A sibling you threatened to harm." I growled and paused to let my words to sink in. "Now imagine a giant hand has turned my dial from half-assed to the setting that left the dictator running what was once my former home corpse hung like a piece of meat, a chancellor who fancied himself a god dead and his body set abalaze, and two major Japanese cities smoking craters."

"Alright, Ductor." Flood asked. "What do you want?"

"For starters, those out of my face." I said flatly.

Flood held up a hand and they lowered their crossbows

"Second, I want you and any others you brought with you out of my city by sunrise."

"I'll order a full retreat."

"No."

"No?"

"I want you to tell your men "run away." Those words. "Run away." I want you to be famous for those exact words. I want it so when you become a Colonel, people to call you Colonel Runaway. I want children laughing outside your door because they've found the house of Colonel Runaway." I barred my teeth and fought to the urge to indulge in my more violent tendencies."And when people come to you and ask if trying to get to me through those close to me, is in any way a good idea, I want you to tell them your name."

"Okay." He sighed and I could he was fighting the urge to tell me to go fuck myself. "Anything else?"

"Stay out of the city." I finished. "Feel free to tend to your wounded and I'd hurry if you want to avoid answering questions from the police and fire department.

I stood still and watched as they quickly they rushed into the Patient Gentleman. I waited a moment and climbed into the driver's seat of my Trans Am. Jagerin wordlessly climbed into the passenger's seat with my coat and eyed my with new found curiosity.

"Are you truly the Doctor?" She asked.

"Yes." I started the car and backed out of the spot. "And it is pronounced Duke-tar."

"My apologies." She inclined her head. "I am unfamiliar with Latin."

"Don't stress yourself." I assured as I pulled into the street. "My real name is Dominick. Is Jagerin your name as well or is it something else entirely?"

"Sarah." She said. "Few know me as Sarah Von Waltz."

"Von Waltz?" I repeated. "Explains the German nickname."

"Why did you lie to Flood and the others?" Sarah asked. "Why not tell them the truth?"

"The truth?"

"That you sired my maker, Wilhelmina Wallace." Sarah said. "Why deceive them that she sired us both?"

"So you can tell we share blood?" I asked, ignoring the use of HER name. "I felt something when you entered and it took me a moment to figure out what it meant."

"Yes. I felt a strong pull as I drew close to the diner, but I did not know what it meant. Now I know we share blood."

"That we do." I agreed. "But I did not sire your maker. I haven't sired any progeny."

"You haven't?"

"It wouldn't be wise." I said as I waited for a light. "I'm not as old as I claimed to be. I know it is strictly against our rules, given the circumstances I think you'd agree it was worth the break in manners."

"How exactly old are you?" I could feel her eyes narrow at me.

"Just under three years." I said nonchalantly

"What?!" She shrieked. "Then you are not the Ductor!"

"Actually, I am." I explained. "My age may be a lie, but everything else you've heard — the stories about turning the tables on a pack, escaping capture of the survivors, and aiding the sheriff of the city in his dispute with a large group of united packs — is true. The Weres themselves came up with the name, I just used it to my advantage."

Sarah was silent for a full minute. In that minute, I had to pull over for several police cruisers and half dozen of ambulances and fire trucks heading in the opposite direction towards the Patient Gentleman. I looked over and saw she was processing everything I had said.

"If all this is true, which is ludicrous." Sarah looked like was reevaluating me. "Then you did not sire Wilhelmina."

"No." I said firmly and hid any trace of emotion. "She sired me."

"Then our shared blood . . ." She looked as if she was torn between surprised and happy. "We . . . are . . . siblings?"

"Yes."

"Wilhelmina?" She asked, desperate for answer. "Where is she?!"

"I don't know." I said gently. "I haven't seen her in a over year."

"I don't understand."

"I'll explain on the way." I pulled back onto the street, ignoring the honking of a hurried cab driver. "It's a bit of drive."

"Where are we going?"

"Lynbrook." I told her. "This night isn't over by a long shot and something tells me I'm going to need my big sister."

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>AN**_ - For those curious how Dominick passes himself as an ancient Roman. Anyone with enough time can research the culture, but it take a bit more than that if you really want to sell it. It's all in the pronunciation.

(Lou - key - us) (Fab - E- us) (Polk - er)*

(Leg - E - O)**

(Deck - M)**

(E-quest-tree-us)***

(P - uh) (Fee - Del - Us) (Domin - Nee - Tin - Anna)****


	9. Lawyered!

Vampires, for whatever reason, are not the gift giving type.

Any "gift" was more likely to be a reward for a service done, like my cane sword from Ryuu. So I was not entirely surprised when Sarah presented me with a gift when we finally arrived at Hunter's Pub in Lynbrook, Long Island.

Traffic was light, light for Brooklyn during the holiday season, and I quickly took the Belt Parkway and followed it east. Traffic slowly lightened as we made our way through the rest of Brooklyn and skirted the bottom edge of Queens. Once we were on Long Island, I merged onto Route 27, known locally as the Sunrise Highway. Throughout the drive, I had explained to Sarah all that had occurred after our maker had turned me. She kept quiet and listened intently, occasionally asking a question or for me to explain something that escaped her.

While she listened, her hands did not sit idle. I was too angry with Flood and his attack at The Patient Gentleman to notice she had retrieved an old guitar case from under the Trans Am. She explained that she had hidden it when she arrived at the bar and had planned recovering it later after securing Carl. She went on to inform me it held only a small selection of her arsenal and it could vary depending on her bounty, like tranquilizer darts if she was ordered to bring her target back alive.

I pulled into a gas station and asked Sarah to pump the gas while I made phone call. I gave the attendant, a middle age plump woman with graying hair, fifty dollars to fill the tank and dollar in quarters for the payphone. She took my money and handed me the change without a word and I nodded my thanks before I walked around the corner of the store to the payphone. I fed fifty cents into the phone and quickly dialed the number to Yojimbo's.

"_Moshi Moshi_!" answered a bored male voice. "This Yojimbo's! Freeport's premiere Japanese inspired club. How may I serve you?"

"_Watashi wa, Ryuū to hanashitaidesu_." I said in Japanese.

"And whom may I say is calling?" He responded in kind

"This is the Ductor."

"One moment please."

I waited for all of thirty seconds. In that time I heard excited cheers mixed with clinking of glasses, dozens of muffled conversations, and thumping music. I gathered Ryuu must be doing quite well this close to New Year's and no longer having to worry about raiding werewolves.

"Hello, Ductor." Ryuu said pleasantly.

"Hello, Ryuu-sama." I greeted. "I'm afraid I am in need of your assistance."

"What do you require?"

"You own a bar in Lynbrook." I said "Correct?"

"_Hai_."

"Open to both vampire and Were?"

"_Hai_."

"I need the address."

Nothing more?"

"No."

"You could of simply checked the phone book." Ryuu informed me. "It is listed."

"Under Werewolf or Vampire?" I rolled my eyes.

"It is a normal human bar during the day." Ryuu explained. "Only when dose the sun set do the magical wards spring into place."

"I see." I noted it made sense in business sense. Human, vampire, Were or hardly mattered. Money was money. "But since I already have you, you could save me trouble and give it to me regardless."

"That is true. It is called The Hunter's Pub." He gave me the address. "Do you require anything else, Ductor?"

"No, Ryuu-sama." I said politely. "That was all. _Arigatō"_

"_Saraba da_." Ryuu said and hung up.

I hung up and went back to the car where Sarah was waiting. I explained where we were head and she nodded once before returning to the passenger seat. I wasn't sure what to make of Sarah as I drove. She clearly was a woman of few words. She also struck me as the type to let her actions speak for her. She seemed to be my polar opposite in a number of ways. While I might try to talk and scheme my way out a dangerous situation, like I had with Flood and his men outside of the bar, Sarah would take the less complicated route and fight her way out and God help anyone or anything that got in her way. If she desired something, she'd probably ask once in way that dared the other to deny her whereas I might ask politely and try to charm my way to my goal.

Going by the weapons she used, she was not one for invitation. She was of the mind that if it wasn't broken, then why fix it? If she had been turned sometime during the American Wild West then she stuck to it. Modern they be, but she still preferred Single Action Army Colt revolvers. Her revolvers were actually third generation revolvers that had been manufactured between 1976 and 1982, but I was willing to wager she had owned the original models from 1873 and on. I wouldn't be surprised if she had a Winchester or a Henry Rifle in that guitar case of hers. Her clothes were the same, except for her duster coat, modern with authentic vintage design. All that was really missing was the metallic clink of spurs on her boots.

As fate would have it, we were relatively close. It was hardly ten minutes away from the gas station. While I had grown up and had seen every part of it, I always found Long Island strangely eerie at night. During the day, the streets were filled with cars and people going about their lives. Now the streets were deserted with only the occasional car passing by or single passerby with only the lamp posts and traffic light providing any illumination. There were still the late night gas stations and endless amount of all night diners and 7 Elevens'. Hard to believe that after only a few short years in the city that never slept, despite being familiar with every single town and road, my former was alien to me as a tourist.

The Hunter's Pub sat across from an Italian bakery with a small alley way big enough for a supply truck between it and a deli. Farther down the road was another gas station that had closed for the night. In the opposite direction was closed dry cleaners and post office. The pub sported a fairly large parking lot for its size and all twenty spot were filled. Fortunately, the spot directly in front in the street was open. I remembered that even on Long Island, such choice parking was nothing short of a gift from God. With such a high population, and this close to the city, you were lucky if you only had to park a block away from your destination.

"This is it?" Sarah sniffed the air. "More Weres."

"Yep." We got out. "But it's not them I'm worried about."

"Your nestmate is not foolish." Sarah seemed unsure. "She will not risk harming you. She knows how valuable you are to her master."

"She won't kill me." I agreed. "But she can still make things difficult."

"That is true." She handed me a piece of leather. "Here."

"A belt?" I held it up. "With two buckles?"

"Wrap the long piece around your waist." She instructed. "Then wrap the small one around your thigh just above you right knee."

"Alright." I did as she instructed and saw what it was. "A holster?"

"Obviously." She tossed me a long piece of metal and wood. "For this!"

It was a sawed off double-barreled shotgun just slightly longer than my forearm and significantly thicker. I examined it as Sarah explained.

"That is a 1889 Model Remington Twelve Gauge Shotgun." Sarah said proudly. "Dual triggered and hammered with a beaver tail release. For concealment and maneuverability indoors, I've shortened the barrel so it is level with the hand guard and the stock so it can be wielded in a single hand."

"Hmm." I held it out, surprised by it's lack of weight.

"Even at your age, our strength eliminates its immense recoil and our speed allows you to quickly draw it from its holster faster than any human is capable of. However, it is not meant for distance nor precision." She motioned to me. "It will serve to compensate for your lack of experience with its very wide spread."

I opened it and closed it with a quick, but gentle, flick of my wrist. "Groovy!"

"Here!" Sarah tossed me two small objects.

I caught them and saw two shells with red plastic covering the length of them.

"Low brass shells." Sarah explained. "Load them into the barrels, but do not thumb back the hammer."

I popped open the chamber and slid a shell into each barrel.

"The front trigger fires the right barrel and the rear trigger fires the left. If your require extra power, you can pull both simultaneously, but you will need to reload."

"Just showing it off should be enough." I slid my new weapon into its holster. "One look and they'll think twice. What about you? RPG?"

"Do we really need weapons for this?"

"I just like them." I offered a smile. "They make me feel all manly."

Sarah muttered something to herself in German as she shook her head. She put six more shell into my hands and went inside the bar. I carefully slid the shell into the little slots along the holster before I retrieved my coat from the passenger's seat. I quickly threw it on and followed my sister inside.

The Hunter's Pub looked like a cross between a bar and fur trading post. There was a row of twelve cushioned booths opposite a bar spanning the length of the booths. On the wall, overlooking each table, was stuffed animal head. Most of them were deer, but there were moose and elk as well. They all had metal plaques with dates and names. Some even had Polaroid photographs taped to it with either men posing with rifles or, in the case of most, of large group of wolves with the full moon in the night sky.

Speaking of wolves, there were at least a dozen and a half in the bar. They wore what I had come to call their uniform, denim and leather with wolf images, as they drank from large mugs of beer that they used to chase shots of whiskey. There were vampires as well, but only a dozen at most and that was including Sarah and I. They all occupied twp table near the exit far and away from the Weres.

Sarah and I walked to the bar. It was there that we met the only other vampire. He was tall and muscular, but not overly so. His blond hair was cropped short, not unlike Flood and his men, and had a long scar that went from his hairline down over his left baby blue eye to his jaw. Around his neck was a collection of two dozen dogtags which jingled like keys as he polished a glass with a rag. Going by the lone tattoo on his right bicep, an M16 rifle over a red and yellow stripped Native American drum with feather and the words Vietnam Era Veterans over the rifle, I surmised he had been turned while fighting or when he returned home from the war.

"Hello." He greeted gruffly. "Name's Dave. Still got some blood, but its all A Neg. Shipment's due any day now."

"_Ave_, David." I repeated my gesture that I made when I met John earlier in the night, clenching my fist over over my left breast before holding it out so I formed a right angle with my elbow. "_Actae sis tuo_."

"And to you as well." David repeated the gesture. "I think."

"David, did a female vampire arrive here not too long ago?" I asked politely. "Within the last couple of hours or so?"

"Yes." He nodded once. "The progeny of the sheriff. She wished to speak my maker as she runs the bar for him."

"Can you please inquire after her?" I placed a hundred on the counter. "And two bloods while we wait."

"Who should I say is asking for her?" David placed two glasses and filled them with warm flood from a large wine bottle from under the bar. "Two bloods."

"Thank you." I took a glass and handed one to Sarah. "Tell her it is the Ductor."

"I will." He inclined his head. "Please have a seat."

I raised my glass to him as way of thanks before finding one of the few tables that was not a booth. The tension in the bar had shot up significantly the moment I said the word Ductor. A booth would be a deathtrap with one way in and out. A table at least gave us some wiggle room. The table sat next to a jukebox that was probably ancient thirty years ago. Still, I fished in my pocket for some change and fed the machine. A quick scroll and hit the corresponding buttons. I waited for a moment and nodding approvingly as the great and late Ella Fitzgerald began singing alongside a jazzy melody being played on a piano. I bobbed my head to the tune for a moment before I sat down.

_In old Savannah, I said Savannah_

_The weather there is nice and warm_

_The climate's of the southern brand_

_But here's what I don't understand_

_They've got a gal there, a pretty gal there_

_Who's colder than an arctic storm_

_Got a heart just like a stone_

_Even nice men leave her alone_

_They call her, "Hard hearted Hannah"_

_The vamp of Savannah_

_The meanest gal in town_

_Leather is tough but Hannah's heart is tougher_

_She's a gal who loves to see men suffer_

"Interesting choice." Sarah remarked as she placed her boots on the table and sipped from her glass. "Considering our present company."

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean." I said with a smile and also placed my feet on the table. "How can anyone not like Ella Fitzgerald's performance in Pete Kelly's Blues? It's a classic."

Truth be told, I hadn't really thought it through. I merely found a song I had not heard in years and wanted to past the time. If I really wanted to rile up the Weres, I would have played Duran Duran's Hungry Like The Wolf. Although all that might have achieved is a group of two Were and two Shifters approaching after one minute instead of three which did happen.

I had seen them approach and made sure to not make any sudden moves other than sip from my drink. Sarah did the same , but I did notice that she slowly slid her free hand down to her pistol. In all honesty, I had come to accept my more violent tendencies, but I decided Ryuu wouldn't like it if I had to burn down this bar. Mae was probably at my apartment with a bill for damages.

As they came closer, I saw they looked like average humans. They also appeared very young and I wouldn't be surprised if at least one of them was still in high school. It would explain why, after dropping the name Ductor, they thought four would be enough for two vampires. Youth combined with the high emotions that came with a rapidly approaching full moon was deadly cocktail.

"I'll deal with these whelps." Sarah growled and reached for her pistol.

"I've got this." I whispered to before speaking to the approaching group. "Can I help you?"

"You got a lot of nerve." growled the leader of the group. "Showing your face to us."

"I was about to the say the same." I sipped from my glass.

"You really think you can take us?" He motioned to his group as well as the bar. "Ain't no way for you to take us by surprise."

"Now I wouldn't say that." I set my empty glass down.

"Why the fuck not?!" He demanded.

"I will count to three." I quickly drew and shoved my new shotgun an inch from his face. "And may your god help you if you are still there." I noticed he looked angry but cast a worried glance at the rest of the Weres in the bar. I did the same and saw some might jump in if I did fire. "Know that you will die first. The rest of them might kill me, but not after I paint the ceiling and floor with your blood and what passes for a brain."

"He's bluffing." said the one to his right. "Rush him!"

"No!" barked their leader. "He ain't bluffing."

"One!" I thumbed back the left hammer and saw one shifter back up a few steps before returning to an empty table. "Two!" I thumbed back the second hammer and this time they all left. "I thought so."

"Smarter than they look." Sarah observed as she set down her glass.

As if they had been waiting for a play to end, David came from around the bar from a back room of sorts with Kim following closely behind. It was impossible to discern her state. As most vampires, Kim had decades practicing hiding her emotions behind a blank face. She did show a hint of curiosity at Sarah's presence, but that was understandable.

"Took you long enough." Kim said. "I was beginning to wonder if you sent me on a wild goose chase."

"I did." I admitted. "But it was not intentional."

Kim raised an eyebrow.

"Okay. It was."

"_Kisama_." Kim hissed flashing her fangs.

"What did she just call you?" Sarah asked calmly, but not taking her eyes off of Kim.

"You." I translated. "But it's incredibly informal. It's the equivalent of calling me a bastard or an asshole."

"Oh really?" Sarah's eyes flashed Kim a world of warning.

"Who the fuck is this?!" Kim demanded.

"_Passen sie ihren mund , säen_!" Sarah shot up to her feet and snarled.

I watched as they both leaned over tables, gripping the edge with their hands, growling like two dog fighting over a scrap of meet.

"Allow me to introduce my sister." I said standing up between the two. "Perhaps you've heard of her. Dose the name Jagerin mean sound familiar?"

Kim just stared at me, dumbfounded.

"I know." I shrugged. "My words exactly."

"Is this true?" Kim looked to Sarah.

"I am the Jagerin." Sarah confirmed. "Now, is this truly the Ductor?"

"Yes." Kim sat down. "I also assume he is your brother?"

"It appears so." Sarah settle back in her chair. "We share a bond that only comes from our maker's blood."

"I do not wish to alert you." Kim said quietly. "But you are walking into a trap."

"Excuse me?"

"Actually, Kim." I stood up. "You're a bit behind. Come on, I'll explain on the drive back to the nest."

Sarah and Kim followed me back to the Trans Am. It was a tight squeeze, but we made due. With Sarah's guitar case of weapon resting in the small ledge behind the only two seats and after much debating, Kim sat in Sarah's lap as I drove back to Soho.

I decided to use the Long Island Expressway, known to others as the I-495, since I did not have to make any stops like I had earlier in the night. I drove north on Ocean Avenue, skirting edge North Lynbrook and Malverne, and merged onto the Southern State Parkway heading west back towards the city. I expected Kim to demand answers, but she kept quiet in Sarah's lap like petulant child. It was too quiet for my liking so played my "Driving Mix" tape and enjoyed the blurring scenery.

I didn't stay on the Southern State for too long before we reached its end and I took exit for the Cross Island Parkway to continue north. Part of me wished it was summer or spring instead of winter. While the nights were considerably shorter, I would be able to give my new Trans Am a proper road test. While I had loved my '78 Cressida, I was too afraid of putting too much stress and have the engine break. However, although technically older, the Trans Am was a different case. As much as I wanted to through caution to the wind and, as Smokey and the Bandit often said, put the pedal to the medal, I had no desire to hit a patch of black ice or large pothole created by the fleet of plows. Kim, Sarah, and I might be vampires and would probably survive any wreck, it was best err on the side of caution. Knowing my luck, the gas tank would explode and vampires are very vulnerable to fire.

Once we passed the Grand Central, I kept a lookout for and took exit thirty west for the Long Island Expressway. From there, i sped through the more residential part of Queens. After blurring by Kissena and Flushing Meadow Corona Park, we hit some traffic as I took exit seventeen towards Brooklyn to merge onto the I-278. Once I did, I resigned myself to going back from second and third gear when the posted constructions sign informed everyone that chose to take the Williamsburg Bridge would be consigned to a single lane. The traffic had already backed up to the exit so I growled and jerked the wheel to my left, ignoring the horn of at least three cars.

Lucky for me, I still had two options without having to turn around. I continued south until the I-278 became the Brooklyn-Queen Expressway, or BQE for short, in all its six lane glory. Traffic lightened significantly up slight due to a majority choosing to waste their lives on the Williamsburg and the addition of four more lanes. If they wanted to watch the sunrise without even getting half way across then that was their problem. As I mentally patted myself on the back for such brilliant navigation when I saw a road crew putting up more signs, these about the Brooklyn Bridge.

"That's it!" I snapped.

I jerked the wheel and shot down the ramp of exit twenty-nine onto Tillary Street. I quickly passed Prince, Gold, and Duffield Street and drifted right on Flatbush to avoid being caught by the red light. I opted for the lower level, which was less crowded, and drove across bridge and over the East River. It was not until that I came to a red light to turn onto Canal Street that Sarah broke the silence, but not to me.

"Is this normal?" She asked.

"It is one of the cons of the city and Long Island." Kim said. "Constant traffic and contruction at all hours of the day and some of the night."

"I meant him." Sarah clarified.

"It gets to you sometimes." I growled.

Sarah accepted my answer and didn't say another word. Luckily for me, and any incompetent driver in my way, we were only blocks away. We inched along Canal Street until it finally crossed with Broadway. I made the right and braced myself to drop off Kim and Sarah while I spent another hour looking for a parking spot. That was until I remembered that someone had done away with the dumpster in the alley behind the building earlier this month. Apparently, it had been leftover from when the adjacent building had been renovated and hadn't been returned until someone had done inventory. It was the small alley where I used to park my old motorcycle. With the dumpster gone, garbage collectors had lost their only reason to visit the spot.

The alley was actually a dead end with an eight foot brick wall preventing passage from and to the other side. The dumpster had sat in the corner from the by the building and wall with enough room for a man to fit behind to push to the curb so it could be emptied. It still smelled of rotting garbage, but it was the price to pay for choice parking. Ignoring the honking and obscenities thrown my way, I turn right, temporally blocking both lanes, and backed up into the spot. Aside from the odor, it was perfect. It was wide enough so the doors of the Trans Am could be opened all the way and the length allowed to park far from the sidewalk to avoid notice, but not for another car to box me in.

"Finally." I said as we got out. "Some luck."

"Luck?" Sarah frowned. "How do you stand such a horrid smell?"

"I agree." Kim made a face.

"Kim," I said, amused. "If you're going to live in the city, then be prepare to smell something far from pleasant every now and then."

"Like that vagrant?" Sarah looked to the entrance of the alley. "He seems to know you."

I turned and I recognized him. "Oh, that's just Mark." I waved him over. "He's mine."

Mark was one of younger members of the Broadway Cast-Offs at about thirty-five or so, but he looked older. His brown hair and grisly beard was severely peppered with gray and white. He wore so many layers, regardless of the weather, it was difficult to determine what kind of build he had. He could be incredibly muscular and barrel chested just as easily as he could be simply portly. He was no rocket scientist, but he wasn't mentally handicapped as severely as other homeless.

"Hello, Mark." i said slowly.

"Hi." He said shyly and blushed when he looked at Sarah and Kim. "Who are they? They're pretty."

"Oh these are just my friends, Mark." I explained. "Did you want something?"

"They got rid of the dumpster." He said simply.

"And you're hungry." I nodded, understanding he often sifted through the dumpster for scraps of food. High income neighborhood like Soho and Tribeca tended to have better pickings. I took out my wallet. "Can you do me a favor, Mark?" I handed him two hundred dollar bills. "I need you to buy me something."

"Christmas presents?" He asked.

"Sort of." I smiled gently. "I need you to go buy a tarp for my new car. Do you know what a tarp is?"

"Like a big blanket?"

"Exactly." I nodded. "I need a big blanket for my car for when it snows and rains. Do you know where to find one?"

"Yes." He nodded enthusiastically and pointed northwest. "There's a store that sells car stuff."

"Then go there." I encouraged him. "It might be closed by now so just go back when it opens."

"Okay."

"When you have the tarp," I instructed carefully. "I want you to cover this car with it." I pointed to the Trans Am. "And you can keep the rest of the money."

"You don't want the change?" Mark asked bewildered.

"No." I shook my head. "I don't."

"Okay."

With that he walked down and out of the alley, humming like he didn't have a care in the world.

"One of your Cast-Offs?" Kim asked coming to stand next to me.

"Yes." I explained. "He's a little slow, but he's smart enough to follow simple orders."

"But not enough to bathe apparently." Sarah remarked.

"It's not like he can take a dip in a fountain in Central Park." I walked down the alley with Kim and Sarah following. "They shut off the water in the winter and even if they didn't, he'd get sick from the cold."

We walked around to the front of the building and crossed the lobby to the elevator. It was a short and quiet ride to the twelfth floor and led them to my apartment. I paused and knocked on Julie's door to retrieve Tux. To my surprise, she was awake. Tux refused to come out when she called out, but leapt into my arms when I did so. I thanked Julie for taking care of Tux.

"I know. I know." I said to Tux as she rubbed her head against my neck, purring like mad, while I retrieved my keys. "I missed you too."

"You care for this creature?" Sarah looked puzzled by Tux's reaction to my return.

"I found it strange as well." Kim added.

"I never had the chance to have a pet." I said unlocking the door. "I saw an opportunity to have one and did."

I would be lying if I didn't say I expected after the excitement of the night — Kim and and a vampire Elvis barging into my apartment, develop a method for vampires to have tattoos after being turned, picking up my childhood dream car, discovering I had an older sister who happened to by a famous bounty hunter, helping said sister fight a large wold pack with a Jerry-rigged microwave, driving out to Lynbrook, narrowly avoiding another fight with a large group of Weres, and fighting the unending beast that was New York traffic — that I had enough excitement for one night. However, the moment I opened the door, the night was still not over.

My living room looked as if I had just walked into the beginning of a hardcore BDSM porno tape with a very specific fetish in mind.

Bubba was still there, but his clothes were rumpled and torn in several places. There was dried blood under his nose than ran halfway down his chin as if it had been broken earlier in the night. Curiously, the missing patches in his clothes were oval-shaped and I had the strangest feeling a vampire had done the biting. I suppose a human could have done one or two, but even a mentally challenged vampire like a vampire could overpower even the strongest human.

Across from Bubba was another vampire, half sitting half leaning against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed. He was pale, as all Caucasian vampires were, and was average height which meant he was taller than me by a few inches. He looked he had been roughly thirty or so when he was turn and he possessed the broad shoulders and chest that only came with manual labor. He wasn't overly muscular nor scrawny, just a slightly lean look to him. He had neatly combed dark hair that was normal with his long sideburns looking as if they had come from a bygone era, but completing the look. He work rumpled khakis and polished loafers which was just asking to slip on a patch of ice. Tucked into the khakis was a simple, short sleeved, dark purple collared shirt. He had a couple of blood stains on his hands and one on his left forearm.

In between the two was someone tied to a chair. I say someone because that was all that was evident. Someone, either Bubba or the other vampire, had tied some poor human to the chair, draped one of the few Egyptian cotton bed sheets over him, and then secured it all with several lengths of unpolished chain.

"I need to have a word with the agency." I said. "I specifically asked for two impersonators and a clown."

"Miss Kim!" Bubba exclaimed. "She woke — "

Bubba stopped when he caught sight of Tux in my arms. Tux hissed and growled as she tried to back up into my chest. Bubba licked his lips as he eyed Tux.

"Go ahead." I growled drawing the sawed off. "Give me an excuse."

"Bubba," Kim ordered. "You are to leave that creature alone. No matter how hungry you are."

"But — " Bubba began to protest, but thought better. "Alright."

Still aiming, I set Tux down who shot across the room past everyone and into my room. She even closed the door behind her to put something between her and Bubba. He did watch her every move, but made no movement himself.

"Bill," Sarah said to the new vampire."I'm surprised you found him so quickly."

"It took nothing more than a few phone calls." the new vampire, Bill, responded coolly. "Did you find your bounty?"

"Yes." She motioned to me. "With the assistance of the Ductor."

"Ductor?" Bill gave a once over, reevaluating his initial assumption, and revealing a slight southern drawl. "It is an honor." He inclined his head to me. "I apologize for the intrusion, Ductor. I am Bill Compton of her majesty's, Queen Sophie-Anne, Louisiana."

"It is a pleasure, Bill." I returned the nod. "Might I ask your purpose in journeying so far north?"

"I was sent to retrieve Bubba." He sounded annoyed. "As you know, he is not altogether there, but can follow orders well enough. We often pass him between Tennessee, Mississippi, and Louisiana. However, he likes to wander now and then which has lead to the rumor he faked his death among the humans." He motioned to Sarah. "Our paths crossed and we realized our destinations were the same so we traveled together."

"Small world." I commented before motioning to the chair. "And this?"

"An unseen circumstance." Bill said coolly. "She is strong for one so young, but fortunately Bubba was strong enough to restrain her and the silver chains were enough to weaken her until she arrived." Bill nodded towards Kim.

I turned to Kim who was speaking with Bubba.

"What do you mean she woke up?" Kim demanded.

That was when I put two and two together. I walked to the person tied to the chair. Whomever it was, and I had a very clear idea, must have sensed me approached and lifted her head as if to see me through the sheet.

"Do me a favor. I said to Sarah. "Go to the refrigerator and get me one of the six packs of beer.

Sarah nodded and casually made her way to the fridge. She opened the fridge and retrieved a pack of Coors beer. She was clearly curious as to why I wanted something I could no longer drink, but she must have decided it was best to just indulge me and she'd find out soon enough.

"Thank you." I said. "Just hold on for a moment."

Kim had been too occupied with her conversation with Bubba to notice us, but it didn't last. She was walking towards me when I ripped a hole in the sheet to reveal our mystey guess. Although mystery and surprise nestmate would be closer.

Suddenly, Latasha Carter was looking up at me with pleading puppy dog eyes and a trembling lip as she was on the verge of crying again. I say again because it was impossible to ignore the drying crimson streaks running down her face.

So Kim had turned Tasha into a vampire.

I put it together in the time it took to roll my eyes. Kim had turned Tasha roughly three nights ago and had unceremoniously, and quite literally, stuffed her body in a trunk. I held back my tongue. Kim had been beyond reckless. Regardless of the fact she had three nights of time to find a new nest, she should have simply stayed with Ryuu and the rest of her nest.

What if Bubba and Bill hadn't been in the apartment when she woke up?

God only the damage she could have done in her state. A locked door would have stopped her any more than the trunk would. Best case scenario, she wandered the halls of the building in search of blood with only the late hour and lack of invitation protecting the humans from harm. Worst case, she managed to reach the streets and attacked the first human unlucky enough to wander by which was all but guaranteed to happen with the massive increase to an already overpopulated city. I briefly wondered if I was over thinking things. After all, hadn't I done just that? But I was a special case. My gift had allowed me some slight control, but it would have been disastrous had someone fell and cut themselves near me or stepped on a piece of broken glass with thin shoes.

"Yours?" I asked calmly.

"Yes." Kim said just as calmly.

"We'll talk about this later." I said. "Agreed?"

"Agreed." Kim nodded.

I took a bottle from Sarah. I twisted the cap with a slight hiss. At least one thing was going right tonight. The moment I did Kim jerked towards me, her new fangs flashing bright in the light. I ignored her and drew my sword.

"What are you doing?" Kim asked.

"Freeing your progeny."

I slashed at the chains which broke with few sparks. Tasha shot to her feet with her new speed and tossed the sheet away. Before the sheet fell half an inch, Tasha cowered away from the chains and my sword behind Kim. Tasha might not be aware of it, but she would be drawn to Kim and instinctively seek her protection. She hissed at me like a cornered cat. I sighed and sheathed the sword as I held out the bottle. Like before, Tasha sniffed the air and snatched the bottle from my hand. As she chugged the blood, I took the six pack from Sarah and handed it to Kim. She accepted it and opened another bottle for Tasha.

With that taken care of, I went to the fridge and retrieved another six pack. I set it down and took five bottles with me back to the living room. I wordlessly handed one to Sarah, Bill, and Bubba and kept one for myself. I hung my coat on the coat rack by the door before collapsing into a recliner. I twisted the cap, pleased at receiving the hiss that came with it, and took a large mouthful. I saw that only Bubba had opened their bottles.

"It's not really beer." I assured. "I just kept the label."

"What is it?" Sarah asked.

"Blood." observed Bill as he watched Bubba. "We cannot drink anything else."

"But why the hiss?" Sarah examined the bottle.

"Pressure." I took another sip, enjoying the slight tingling in my throat. "The pressure inside the bottle is much higher than the pressure outside the bottle." I motioned to the cap. "When the bottle is opened, there is a sudden pressure differential. The initial loud hiss that is heard is this pressure differential equalizing itself. All of the additional pressure found within the bottle pushes gas out of the bottle until the pressure inside the bottle is the same as the pressure outside the bottle. The movement of this gas causes that initial loud hiss."

"But why bother in the first place?" Bill twisted the cap, but was unsure if he should drink. "Unless you mean to keep the blood fresh."

"Same reason soda manufacturers do so with their products." I wiggled the bottle slightly so the sound could be heard. "It helps keep the liquid carbonated. That is, the additional pressure at the surface of the liquid inside the bottle forces the bubbles to stay dissolved within the soda."

"You mean . . ." Sarah was puzzled.

"I got the idea when I saw child drop a bottle of cherry soda on East Twenty-First between Second and Third Ave in Gramercy Park." I finished the bottle and licked my lips. "Now I see why humans enjoy a cold beer after a long night." I saw Sarah was staring. "It's carbonated blood. Like beer or that drink humans are found of, Coke?"

Sarah twisted the cap and took a swig. She licked her lips evaluating the flavor. "It tickles the throat." she remarked. "But pleasantly so."

"You do realized you've developed a way for us to feed in public without rousing suspicion?. Bill asked casually as he drank. "Is there a way to serve it warm?"

"Unfortunately, no." I said. "Warming it without removing the cap causes the bottle to explode from the built of pressure and removing the cap during the warming process boils away the gas which defeats the purpose."

"Is there anymore?" Kim asked.

I turned to see Tasha had finished the entire six pack. If experience was any help, it wouldn't be near enough. "There should be a dozen left. It should hold her over until tomorrow night." I motioned to the first door in the hall. "You can use the first room on the right if you want some privacy to explain things to her."

Kim nodded and led Tasha to HER old room. I was going to be in for one hell of night tomorrow, but I had other things to deal with. Namely, I needed to keep Sarah her in New York without starting an inter-kingdom incident with Louisiana.

"So with Carl and Bubba in custody," I began. "Are you going to go straight back to Louisiana?"

"It certainly seems that way." Bill said. "I can see no reason to stay."

"Clearly you've never been to a Broadway show." I teased. "I've heard excellent things about this year's rendition of A Christmas Carol."

"Perhaps I should have said I can see no official reason to stay." Bill offered a polite smile. "I'm afraid Queen Sophie-Anne would not take kindly to such a frivolous delay."

"Well, you are in her court." I asked Sarah. "But are you as well? A single monarch could only need a bounty hunter of your caliber every so often, but multiple monarchs on the other hand would be perfect for your profession."

"I have served her for the past five years." Sarah seemed to be weighing the options. "But officially I am a free agent. As you say, I travel where I am needed. I could stay if I choose to if I was free of any obligation." She frowned. "However, I swore an oath to serve her until she released me."

"Come again?"

"It is a standard practice." Bill explained. "It is to prevent the bounty from fleeing to rich allies whom can potenially pay the hunter to turn traitor. It is understood by both that obedience is temporary, but absolute until the hunter is released from service. It is traditionally done in person with members of court as witnesses."

"And is Queen Sophie-Anna a stickler for rules and ceremony?"

"It depends on the occasion." Sarah answered.

"Hmm." I thought about it for a moment and saw I had no choice but to risk it. "Bill, do you have a cell phone and the queen's number?"

"Yes." Bill looked puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"I would speak with her." I held out a hand.

Bill looked to Sarah who spared me a glance before nodding once. Bill took out a cellphone from his back pocket and placed it in the palm of my hand. As i scrolled through his contact list, I guessed this was Bill's personal phone rather than one issued by the queen herself. I found Sophie-Anne's number at the very end of the list, under Queen, and hit send.

I held it to my ear as it rang. I looked at my watch and remembered New York was one hour ahead of Louisiana. There was still plenty of night left even if the Sophie-Anne went to bed early.

"Hello, Bill." answered a cool male voice. "All is well I trust?"

"I apologize for misleading you." I said cheerfully. "But this is not your associate Bill Compton."

"Then to whom am I speaking to?" He asked doing a very perfect job of hiding his surprise, if he was surprised.

"The Ductor." I said nonchalantly. "And to whom am I speaking with?"

"Andre Paul, progeny of her majesty, Queen Sophie-Anne of Louisiana." He answered, sounding a bit smug. "Before we continue, I must ask what has become of Bill Compton?"

"Oh, he is right here." I assured. "Bubba as well."

"That is good to know." Andre said calmly. "As I am sure you are aware of, they are under the protection of Louisiana."

"I assume Jagerin is as well. Or as a free lance bounty hunter dose she not warrant the same courtesy?"

"You have no right to hold them!" Andre snapped. "Only the king — "

"Who's holding?" I interrupted. "They are enjoying my hospitality in my own nest. They are free to leave whenever they wish."

"I would like to speak with Bill Compton." Andre demanded.

"Here." I held out the phone. "Apparently the south's propensity for manners has diminished."

Bill took his phone and began to speak with Andre. He explained and swore that I was not holding him and Sarah hostage for some perceived insult and nor was I acting under orders by the king of New York, whomever he was. As he did so, Sarah leaned and began whispering in my ear.

"Andre is not one to be trifled with." she warned. "He was turned not long after Sophie-Anne and she is over one thousand years old."

"You could have told me that before I dialed the phone." I whispered back. "Anyway, he's intelligent to have survived so long which means he won't risk a war with New York without a really good reason and the queen's consent."

"And if he merely decides to take matters in his own hands and makes thing personal?"

"Do you have any idea how many people live here?" I paused to see where Bubba was and saw him standing by my piano in the corner of the room occasionally tapping a key. "You would have to combine the populations of LA, Chicago, and Houston to match it. Looking for one person, without a face or a listed address, would make looking for a needle in a haystack easy." I began counting off my fingers. "He would be forced to turn to the sheriffs which are greatly indebted to me. That's ignoring the fact I've memorized and know every street in all five boroughs. And don't even get me started on Long Island."

"And if you ever need to travel to New Orleans?"

"I'll tell him the truth about who I am." I smiled. "I'm a baby vampire hardly three years old."

"You're only three years old?!" She hissed in my ear.

"Precocious little scamp ain't I?" I winked.

"I understand."Bill handed the phone to me. "Ductor, Andre wishes to speak with you."

"Thank you." I took the phone. "I take it you are aware of the situation?"

"Yes, Ductor." Andre said respectfully. "Please accept my apologies as the king of New York is not known for its tolerance."

"Funny." I mused. "Humans would say the same of Louisiana. May I speak with the queen?"

"Allow me to inquire after her. Please wait."

I waited for hardly thirty seconds. Either the Sophie-Anne was eager to speak with the great Ductor she had heard so much about, or, the far more likely reason, she just happened to be in the next room.

"Hello." greeted a smooth, slightly sultry, accented female voice. "This is Queen Sophie-Anne of Leclerq of Louisiana. I am told the Ductor wishes to speak with me."

"My apologies, your majesty, if I interrupted something important." I said politely. "I am the Ductor."

"You have been causing quite a stir among the two-natured." She informed me. "Tales of your deeds have even reached my ears. I long to say other wise, but not all of them flattering."

"Oderint Dum Metuant." I said casually.

"Let them hate so long as they fear." Sophie-Anne said approvingly.

"Say what you will about Lucius Accius, but he had his moments."

"I was under the impression it was Caligula whom said the phrase."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken, your majesty. Lucius Accius was first, but due to his infamy it stayed with Caligula."

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?" Sophie-Anne asked now that we had broken the ice. "I doubt you wished to educate me on the more subtle facts of Ancient Rome."

"Sadly no." I said. "I wished to speak with you about the bounty hunter you sent after a Were that had so gravely wronged you."

"You speak of the Jagerin." Sophie-Anne concluded. "I was not aware she had chased him so far north."

"Well, she did. However, should you ever have dealings with the king of Mississippi please inform him to keep the Hounds of Hell on a shorter leash in the future, for their sake." I chuckled. "And if he could have them pay for the damages I was forced to commit to save myself and Jagerin."

"Damages?"

"They stormed a bar I happened to be in at the time. Long story short, I severely burned the floor and furniture of the main room with some improvised Molotov cocktails and utterly destroyed the kitchen with a hastily constructed bomb."

"While I am grateful for your assistance, as am sure Jagerin is, I must ask why did you interfere?"

"Besides the fact they shot me with a crossbow?"

"Yes, besides that."

"She is my sister."

"Excuse me?"

"The vampire you know as the Jagerin is the sister the Ductor." I said. "And I am the Ductor."

"My apologies." Sophie-Anne told me. "She told me that her maker was a woman whom was turned in the very early fourteenth century."

"And I am certain that is what her maker told her, but I am sorry to inform you that our maker was not always as truthful as she should have been. There was a time where I thought she resembled Venus."

"What reason would she have to do so?"

"We each have our own ways of avoiding boredom. Some are more harmless than others."

"That is true enough." She paused as if to consider something. "So what do you wish of me in regards of your newly discovered sister?"

"As you can imagine, we much to discuss." I said. "It is my, and her, desire to remain in New York for a time. In short, I am asking, as favor to me, to release her from her oath."

"And what of the Were she is tracking? Am I to allow such arrogance to go unpunished?"

"Of course not. Which is why he is currently passed out drunk in the trunk of my car."

` "Alive?"

"Last time I checked."

"Then I will gladly release your sister from her obligations to me the moment the Were stands before me." she said firmly.

"And is there nothing I can say or do that might change your mind?"

"I'm afraid not." She said sounding smug. "The sooner they reach New Orleans the sooner I will release."

Now I was annoyed.

We had both been pleasant and polite with each other. Logically she had no reason to keep Sarah if all she wanted was Carl. Bill could easily glamor Carl to drive him and Bubba to New Orleans or take a flight from JFK Airport. Did she think I was lying and this was merely a test to see if I truly wasn't holding Sarah and Bill captive? Had Andre, like a petulant child, gone crying to mommy because of my little quip? Did I not kiss her ass enough?

Then a thought came to me. Assuming Sarah was a stickler for some rules, Sophie-Anne could order her to tell hr everything she knew about me including my age. Even if Sarah resisted, which she might, I didn't imagine for a moment the great Sophie-Anne was above torture. My initial impression was, one way or another, Queen Sophie-Anne got what she wanted. So either comply with her demands and risk it coming back to bite me later on or refusing and incur the wrath of an ancient vampire queen with unknown resources at her disposal. I would be a severe disadvantage. Sophie-Anne would potentially have a fountain of knowledge to work with while the only person with any information for me was Sarah. It seemed that I had over reached and Sophie-Anne had boxed me in. No matter what I offered or said, nothing would make Sophie-Anne release until Carl was standing before her.

Wait a second . . .

"Very well, your majesty." I said trying to sound I was hiding my annoyance, but failing just enough for her to catch it. "I'd prefer it otherwise, but as you said the sooner the better."

"Do not fret, Ductor." She assured me. "If there is one thing we both possess is infinite time."

"That is true." I nodded. "But please, to show there is no ill will, I will send a gift."

"A gift?"

"Yes." I said sweetly. "A gift of knowledge."

"That will not be necessary."

"I insist." I told her. "I will entrust it to Bubba. I am told he is suited for such task and it should keep him from wandering."

"I look forward to it, my Ductor." Sophie-Anne assured me. "Please know that you are welcome in my kingdom should you find yourself tiring of New York and would like experience a city that truly knows how to celebrate."

"May that night come soon, your majesty." I hung up and handed the phone back to Bill. "Sorry if we burned through your minutes."

To my surprise, Bill did not take his phone. I looked around and saw Bill and Sarah were conversing over by the refrigerator. They both had fresh bottles of carbonated blood. Sarah was recounting our fight against the Hounds of Hell in the Patient Gentleman. That was incredibly lucky. Had Bill remained where he had been, he would have heard every word the queen had said and my plan would be thwarted before it even started.

"He fashioned a bomb with a microwave and cleaning spray?" Bill sounded skeptical.

"With silverware for shrapnel." Sarah took a sip from her drink. "I would not have believed it myself, or even thought it possible, if I had not been there."

"Here, Bill." I walked to them and handed Bill his phone. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Bill pocketed the phone.

"It seems the sooner the Carl is standing in her presence the better." I said carefully. "How did you plan on returning?"

"I hired a hearse with false documents to transport me in a coffin." Bill explained.

"I am curious." I asked. "Dose the queen provide for your expenses?"

"Yes." Bill informed me. "Due to unforeseen nature of my assignments, I pay out of pocket and she reimburses me upon completion."

"No doubt to keep you from spending on yourself." I concluded. "Then might I suggest, in regards to saving time for everyone, arranging a plane. It shouldn't be more than a three hour flight non stop from JFK to New Orleans."

"That would be preferable to driving the entire way." Bill observed.

"If you wish, I could speak with the sheriff on Long Island about securing passage onto a plane. He owes me a favor." I offered. "There are a fair number of smaller private airports on the island. It shouldn't be too difficutl to find a pilot willing to overlook a lack of paperwork or at least persuaded to not look to closely."

"In that case." I handed him my car keys. "Go around the building to the Trans Am and retrieve Carl from the trunk before he suffocates. I suggest glamoring him to find a quiet motel and meet up once night falls."

"Thank you, Ductor." Bill took the keys. "I am in your debt."

"Never say that all New Yorkers are rude monsters with no time or want to help others." I smiled gently. "I will send Bubba down with the address and number of the sheriff along with directions. I'd offer to host for the night, but with both Kim and her progeny my sister and I will already be sharing a coffin."

"You have done more than is necessary, Ductor." Bill inclined his head. "There is enough night for Bubba and I to find a suitable place to rest for the day."

Bill quickly left to retrieve Carl. Sarah did not say a word as she followed me back to the living room. I quickly found a blank page and began writing a letter to Sophie-Anne.

_Dear, Queen Sophie-Anne Leclerq._

_I hope this letter find you without delay. I would like to thank you for sending my sister to me. I know it was not your intent to do so, but I am grateful nonetheless. Assuming nothing has gone awry, the Were that was foolish enough to wrong you stands before you, no doubt begging for mercy that will surely not come. As you stated clearly in our previous exchange, you preferred to not release my sister from obligations until all of the i's are dotted and t's crossed, and her prey stood before you. No doubt you are eager to deal with the issue and move on to more pressing matters. It is for that reason, calling upon those who are in my debt, I arranged for your underling Bill Compton to fly straight to New Orleans rather than delay several days and nights by driving the entire length._

_I trusted Bubba with gift. I am aware of your age and this will surprise your palette. I am not certain or not if you tire of the same each and every night. I know I have to an extent, a trait of mine that I carried over from my human life._

_Sincerely,_

_The Ductor._

_P.S. If you ever tire of New Orleans and would like experience all that the greatest city in the world has to offer, know that you to merely call on me and I can guarantee a night you will never forget._

I folded the letter into three and began writing on another sheet.

"What are you doing?" Sarah asked.

"A gift for Sophie-Anne." I started writing down a list of supplies and instructions step by step. "I'm going to send Bubba with a message along with a list of the necessary equipment and the process for carbonating blood."

"Did she release me from my oath?"

"Yes and no." I folded the second letter. "Bubba, would you come here?"

"Yes, mister Ductor?" Bubba came over from the piano.

"I have a job for you." I held up the first letter. "Interested?"

"That kinda depend on how much you're paying." Bubba said as a matter of fact. "And the job?"

"I want you to deliver these two letters to Sophie-Anne when you go to New Orleans with Bill tomorrow night."

"That's it?"

"Yes, but you can't read them or let anyone, except for Sophie-Anne, read them. Don't even tell anyone about them." I took out five twenty dollar bills. "I'll pay you one hundred dollars. Fifty for each letter. Cash. Right now. Would you do this for me?"

"Sure thing." He held a hand for the letters. "You can count on me."

"Here." I watched as Bubba placed the letters and money inside his jacket. "Remember, Bubba. No one can know about those letters and only give them to Sophie-Anne."

"Will do!" Bubba nodded firmly.

"Good." I motioned to the door. "Now go. Bill is probably waiting for you."

"Okay." He inclined his head to me. "It was nice meetin' ya, mister Ductor." He then did the same with Sarah. "You too, Miss Jagerin."

"Farewell, Bubba." Sarah offered a slight smile. "Try to stay out of trouble."

Bubba, encouraged by his role as a royal courier, quickly left and closed the door behind him. I glanced over to HER old room and saw neither Kim or Tasha had opened the door. I caught some muffled noises, but it was too faint and unclear to make out. It was impossible to know how things were going in there. Tasha could still be feeding as Kim explained things to her. Equally as probable, Tasha had fallen prey to her baser urges after finishing the blood and Kim had obliged her in order keep her calm and delay the talk they eventually would have.

"Explain!" Sarah demanded, snapping me out of my mind. "Did the queen release me or not?"

"Alright," I glanced at my watch and saw sunrise was still off by a few hours, but I felt spent. "Follow me." I rose from the chair and began walking to my room. Sarah followed. "Technically, you're still under oath, but only until Carl reaches New Orleans."

"What were her exact words?" Sarah asked accusingly.

"Verbatim?" I opened the door and saw Tux curled at the foot of the bed. "I will gladly release your sister from her obligations to me the moment the Were stands before me." I scratched behind Tux's ear to wake her. "It's alright. He's gone."

Tux yawned before she hopped off the bed and walked out of the room to her favorite spot on the couch.

"So I am to return to New Orleans." Sarah said firmly, sounding far from pleased.

"She didn't say that." I sat on the couch and took off my shoes. "Not exactly anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"You are free the moment Carl stands before Sophie-Anne. It's what I wrote in my letter to her which she should receive sometime tomorrow night thanks to Bill taking my advice about charting a flight instead of driving back all the way. " I removed my socks and enjoyed the feeling the carpet between my toes.

"You are insane!" Sarah hissed. "That verbal kind trickery might pass in human court, but with our kind and most certainly not with Sophie-Anne. Regardless of the words she chose, her meaning was clear!"

"Of course it was." I frowned. "She wanted information on me."

"What?"

"If all she wanted was Carl then would she insist on your return?" I demanded. "With you under her command, she would have you divulge any and all information you had of me. What I looked like, the location of my apartment, my standing with the king of New York, my abilities, anything that could give her an advantage over me besides her age." I growled. "Unlike her, you, or most of our kind I don't the luxury of age. My survival depends on others assuming they'll be courting certain death if they cross me as does my freedom.

"Freedom?"

"Imagine if you're Sophie-Anne." I sighed "You've just discovered that the infamous Ductor is merely an infant with a gift. You want this gift for yourself, but he politely declines. So you threaten to or inform the Were of New York and Long Island that the Ductor is not some ancient general of the Roman Empire, but is some weakling runt and even provide a description of his likeness. This causes them to begin searching for him in earnest making not only the city, but entire kingdom unsafe to reside in. Then all you would ave to do it extend your safety with stipulation that he work for you, effectively cutting off his home-field advantage and his anonymity. Not only will you gain a powerful and useful pawn, but the bragging right that you plucked him from right under the nose of the king of New York."

"Which would cause a war." Sarah pointed out.

"Against an already prepared an intelligent adversary who has just gained a treasure trove of the inner workings of New York City, not only the crown jewel of the kingdom, but one of the few in the entire country." I opened my hands and asked. "Now do you understand why I did what I did? She will be displeased, but she won't risk a war with New York over a single vampire. She'll just have to settle for Carl and my process for carbonating blood as a consolation prize."

"And if she should try again?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

"I was not entirely certain if you possessed a gift, but now I am." Sarah sounded amused. "Strange. Usually gifts tend to be the same all children, but as you've said proficiency with weapons if not yours."

"I thought you just had centuries of practice."

"No." Sarah smiled nostalgically. "As human, I was an average shot. It was until I was turned that my skills improved exponentially. Still, I would trade my gift for that of flight. To soar the sky over prey like a bird of prey would be glorious."

"That reminds me, do you have a cell phone?"

"Yes."

"May I have it?" I held out a hand. "I need to call in a favor."

Sarah handed me her phone and I dialed the number for Yojimbo's. I was informed the bar was closed and Ryuu had left for his nest hours ago. I introduced myself and asked for the home number, thanking him when he recited the numbers. I hung up and dialed Ryuu's number.

"_Dare ga yonde imasu ka_?!" snapped an annoyed Ryuu before saying in English. "God help you if this a telemarketer."

"_Gomen'nasai, Ryuu-sama_." I said. "I thought you might like to help me avoid something of an international incident."

"_Kisama_." He growled. "Need I remind you that you do not reside in my area. Go bother Matthew for once!"

"There are two vampires from the kingdom of Louisiana." I explained. "They will call on you for assistance in procuring a private plane and pilot to return to New Orleans. I told them you would help."

"And why would I wish to do that?" Ryuu demanded.

"Because the sooner they reach New Orleans the less likely the queen is to send more and possibly cause problems. Problems no doubt both you and and king would like to avoid." I went on. "It won't cost you nothing more an hour or two. Three max. You can just send one of your progeny. All they need is the name of a pilot. They'll pay for everything and the queen will reimburse them. I'll pay back any money you spend, for whatever reason, double."

I metaphorically held my breath while Ryuu mulled it over, or mentally cursed me in language he knew. Probably both.

"Very well." Ryuu growled. "But do not presume I will be so accommodating in the future. We are not equals. Regardless of your gift and past service, you are under Matthew's command and mine when in my area, not the other way."

"I'll remember that." I said, pretending to sound cowed. "I'll think things through the next time."

"See that you do!"

With that, he hung up.

"Well, that take cares of that." I set down the phone and looked up. "Uh, what are you doing?"

All of Sarah's clothes laid in a heap around here, gun belt and all, except for her bra and panties. Instead of answering me, she pounced on me in the blink of eye and forced me down on the bed hard. She loomed over me, her fangs out.

"I need you inside of me." She said calmly.

"Uh, what now?"


	10. Slave to Sarah Von Waltz

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you mean something else entirely." I said from under underwear clad older sister.

"I do not mean sex." Sarah said flatly. "Ignoring that you are my brother, you do not suit my tastes."

"It's not me, it's you." I chuckled. "If I had a nickel for every time . . ."

"I wish to know you better and you me." Sarah explained.

"And that calls for holding me down while you're in your underwear?"

"I forgot. You are still so young." Sarah got off of me and I sat up. "You are unaware of the Sibling's Embrace."

"I'm going to guess it's not your common everyday get-a-weird-tingling-down- there kind of embrace you hear that happens all the time in the South?"

"No." Sarah said flatly clearly not in the mood for jokes. "It is a way for siblings to share their lives more intimately than simply retelling their lives to one another."

"Now when you say intimately?"

"Sex is not required, but I heard it can help." She looked unsure. "I've also heard the opposite. However they agree on the rest."

"Which is?"

"We are to drain each other of blood simultaneously." She motioned between us. "I would bite you and drink your blood while you do the same to me. It is called the Sibling's Embrace simply because it appears as if we are embracing each other."

"Not to mention it's also a play on words in way." I added. "We are embracing and welcoming each other's lives into ourselves. Poetic of sorts."

"To be honest, I am not certain as to how it works. It is magic after all."

"Well, theoretically speaking, we are brain dead." I thought how to word my theory. "Yet we can remember our human lives, make new memories, and otherwise function as we had a living brain. Perhaps, while we lay dead after we're turned, our memories are transferred into our blood. Unfortunately, I can't of any way to prove it either way."

"Best not to question magic." Sarah warned.

"Whether it's science or sorcery." I laid down on the bed. "Rules are rules. The trick is figuring them out."

"If you say so." Sarah then asked. "Do wish to continue?"

"Honestly? I'm hesitant." I pushed myself up to look at her. "Why do want to?"

"It has been nearly two centuries since I was turned." Sarah sat next to me, but leaned on her knees refusing to look at me. "For most of that time, I believed the only woman I have ever loved and loved me more than I had ever experienced with any human had perished long ago in a fire. Naturally I blamed myself and believed it true for centuries." She looked up at me, her eyes betraying her emotionless face. "Now I find that not only she survived, but did not seek me out and sired another child. Another child who happens to be a man."

"A man?" That last part puzzled me. "I don't understand how that surprises you."

"When we were together for about ten years, she refused to bed any man." Sarah shook her head. "She gave no explanation as to why and I thought nothing of it. I just took it to mean she preferred women. After all, most men in those times were more animal than anything. Especially to women of color."

"I didn't know that." I said as I remembered. "Now you mention it, she always did feed and bedded women. I thought she did it for my benefit since I do not enjoy men. Feed from them, yes, but that's it."

"Now do you understand I wish to do this?"

"I do." I said as I began to undress. "Anything I need to know before we begin?"

"No. I have shared everything I know with you. We simply drain each other until we both lose consciousness. From there we should experience each other's memories according to what I've heard."

"How long does that take? Or is it while we sleep for the day?"

"I don't know." She looked towards the closet. "Is your coffin in there below the floorboards?"

"Yes." I said, now clad in my boxers. "But I light proofed the room so I can sleep in the bed. I haven't slept in a coffin for years now."

"And your nestmates?"

"Kim will be smart enough to figure out where the empty space is for her and Tasha. They'll be fine." I pulled back the sheets and climbed in. "Hop in."

Sarah climbed in and I covered us. I wasn't sure how to proceed, but Sarah did not share my hesitation. She huddled close like SHE often did when we made love. She opened her arms and pulled me close, entangling our legs in the process, so her face rested in the crook my shoulder and mine hers. Then she nuzzled my neck and I felt her relax, just slightly as if my scent erased any doubt she had about my maker, before she quickly bit my neck. I growled in excitement at the sensation, you'd be hard pressed to find a vampire that wouldn't be, before I bit down on her neck.

It quickly became apparent, siblings or not, the closeness of our bodies and the thrill of feeding was too much to ignore. It was worse for me since I had kept myself busy for the past several months both feeding properly and sex. I imagine it was the same for a relapsing alcoholic or smoker. My hands drifted across the small of her back and I felt three distinct ridges in her otherwise flawless skin. My hands continued learning the shape of her solid muscular body. Part of me thought she had significantly active before she was turned and had almost no body fat.

I was not the only one excited. With a growl, Sarah rolled me onto my back. She dragged her nails up and down my sides as she began grinding into me. She only paused when she stopped feeding from my neck. She pulled away and sat up. Before I was aware of it, she seized the sides of head roughly and brought me to her mouth. I'd be lying if I said I fought her. At this point, we both were on the verge of switching off our brains and let our bodies have what they want. At least I was. We continued kissing, if you call it that. Sarah was far rougher than I was used to. So much in fact, my fangs dug into her almost as much as hers into me. Apparently this was just an average thing for her. Sarah pulled me away before shoving me back down and bit my neck again. I bit back down on her neck just as she resumed grinding against me. After a minute or so, she sped up and deepened her thrusts and I massaged her breast having ripped her bra away in the chaos. It wasn't long before I came, but Sarah just kept going though she did slow as time went on.

I was beginning to feel weak when I felt Sarah shudder and collapsed on top of me. It was becoming a challenge to focus and move as the blood loss took its toll on me. Sarah was also feeling it as she rolled off to my side. My vision blurred for a moment before Sarah pulled herself up and positioned herself so we both could continue feeding. It us a whole minute to bite down and summon the strength to suck what remained of each other's blood.

I don't if it was the next second or the next hour, but the entire world went black.

Suddenly, the darkness around me began to glow and swirl. Piece by piece the world began to form. First the ground. A dirt road stretched until it was out of view on both sides. It was very dry, dusty, and unpaved. It was the kind of road that formed from years of people walking along it so no grass grew. It would probably more of hassle than it was worth when rain came and turned the road into a muddy ditch.

Next, the sky faded into place.

I wasn't aware how much I had missed it until that moment. It was as pristine as I remembered. The same shade of light blue I saw on my last day as human. A brief moment of panic came over me as I realized it was day, but I was not harmed. No smoking or immense pain of being burned alive. On the contrary, all I felt was the pleasant warmth the sunlight brought to my skin. Not even my eyes ached after so much time in the dark. It was as if I had never been turned.

The rest came much more quickly. Old wooden buildings snapped into place as did horses and people. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought I had just stepped into a western. Women wore large wide frilly dresses with huge amounts of lace with matching hats as they carried frilly white umbrella. Parasols I think they were called. Those were few and far between. Most women had simple and plain looking dresses with bonnet framing their faces. I surmised they were the "middle class" that couldn't afford such extravagant clothes. Either way, their dress were nothing like the ones I was accustomed to seeing on women. They were so long and didn't allow to show the slightest bit of skin other than the hands and faces.

Men were more or less what I expected. Some were dirty with long unkempt beards and sported clothes that probably could stand on their own. Others were clean shaven, or had well trimmed bushy mustaches, with pressed suits and top hots or bowlers and polished shoes. Like the the "high class" women, actually cowboys were few. At least what I expected cowboys to be — clinking spurs on pointed leather boots, armed with large knives and revolvers on their hips, and the classic high-crowned, wide-brimmed Stetsonhats.

It took me a moment, but I realized most of the townspeople were gathering at the edge of town. Just as the thought crossed my mind, I was suddenly standing in the middle of the crowd as if I had been there. The only evidence to the contrary, no one reacted to a scrawny pale white boy appearing out of thin air.

I looked up at some sort of stage. Technically, it was a scaffold. A man in a white suit and hat with thick mustache walked and began speaking. It was as if I had gone deaf. His mouth moved and people laughed, but I didn't hear a word. He clapped his hands and called for someone just off to the side to join him. The crowd was too thick to see, but it didn't matter. I wouldn't have wanted to see anyway. As soon as the first person came into sight, although no one there would have even thought to use the word person, I came to horrid realization of what I was seeing. I was seeing probably one of the darkest and most shameful parts of my country's history.

The townspeople were gathering at a slave auction.

There were five on stage behind the auctioneer. Other than some rags, probably the remains of a potato sack, sewn to resemble shorts and the ever present iron chains, the slaves were naked. Two were lean and were just an inch or two shorter than the auctioneer while the other three were much larger and thicker. Regardless of their builds, their bodies were hard with rippling muscles. The larger of them could have had promise careers as professional body builder or wrestlers if they had been fortunate enough to be before a century and half later.

I watched in silence as all five were sold within the hour. Each time one was sold and they stepped down from the stage another slave would have to take their place. This continued for what felt like days, but it couldn't have been more than two hours, until the stage was empty. I thought perhaps it was finally over then the auctioneer waved on more slave to take the stage. The only difference was the slaves were women instead of men. Unlike the men, they were fully clothed. Granted they were the same potato sack rags as the men, but better than being naked which were some of the men practically were. Their ages varied from teenagers to middle aged. They were just as fit as the men and the few that were not I took to mean they were slaves that worked tending to the home rather than the fields.

Only one was not alone. One of the women had a daughter chained to her ankle. The child couldn't have been more than eight years old and was terrified out of her mind. She huddled behind her mother who did her best to keep her calm and from crying. I had way of knowing, but I was certain.

That little girl was Sarah

Sometimes my gift was anything but. Like now for example. I knew from years of school that is was all too common for families to become separated from each other, never to see each other for the rest of their miserable lives, all because white slave owner wanted a few more dollars and sold each member separately. However knowing that did help me in the slightest as I was forced to watch as Sarah's mother beg and cry to not be taken from her daughter. At least the man, a paunchy short man with a salt and pepper handle bar mustache, looked hesitant. I watched as he spoke with the auctioneer who responded by holding two fingers and mouthed twenty. I would learn later that was the equivalent of roughly three hundred dollars in modern currency.

Clearly, the man did not have that kind of money after purchasing Sarah's mother. If it wasn't for the fact I was just reliving a memory and I was hardly more than a ghost, I probably would have turned the entire town in a slaughterhouse rather than stand and watch as Sarah's mother was dragged off the screaming for her child. What sickened me almost as much was the lack of surprise on the townspeople as if this happened everyday. Not even a hint of pity when Sarah, now crying, was carried off the stage and handed to a blonde man a few minutes later.

Then the world shifted and swirled around me.

Just as the blond man was counting out very large bills, I found myself standing in front of a large white house. It was the actual White House, but it was quite big. I looked around and saw I was on a cotton plantation and it was being worked by dozens upon dozens of slaves with an overseer on horse posted every few hundred yards.

Then suddenly I heard the crack of a whip followed by a scream. I turned and really wished I hadn't. An older Sarah was tied to a tree with the back of her clothes ripped open. Three bloody gashes ran along her left shoulder across the small of her back to just above her right buttock. It was then I realized what the those ridges I had felt when I ran my hands along her back.

I'm proud to say I forgot where I was and pounced like Bengal tiger on a water buffalo. Perhaps, like many animals, vampire have a natural protection instinct when it came to siblings. I had, after all, only known Sarah for a few hours at most and here I was trying to kill a worthless excuse for a human being that had died centuries ago. It could simply be that persecution was one of my buttons. I'd like to think it was a bit of both.

I landed hard on the ground, but I felt no pain. It was no different than being lowered gently on the ground except at far greater speed. I turned to see the man was standing right in the middle of each of my shins. I pulled my legs up and they passed right through. He didn't even blink or gave any indication I was even there as he raised the whip again to continue.

"_Vater_!" cried a voice in German. "_Warum tust du das _?!"

The paused to look and stood to see as well.

He was medium height young man with not day over twenty on him or so. He was handsome with blondish gold hair neatly comb to the side and sky blue eyes. He also an incredibly smooth and tanned complexion. He was thinnish, but not overly so and had enough muscle that he could not be considered sickly. He was wearing a shirt, stained with dirt and sweat, tucked into a pair of pants with suspenders. On his feet were worn and mud caked boots. He was being accompanied by a small black boy who was carrying a brown leather doctor's bag.

What surprised me more was the fact the boy had clearly spoken German, a language I had never learned. Yet, I understood every word. Then I remembered I was reliving Sarah's memory. I might not speak German, but she certainly did. I might be hearing everything as she had, but whatever magic that was allowing me to be here was also translating in way. Like the TARDIS telepathically converting everything into English on Doctor Who in real time. They might be speaking German, but I mentally understood in English.

"Nevermind me, Christoph!" barked the man whom I assumed was Christoph's father. "Get back to your chores!"

"Why are you whipping her?!" Christoph demanded.

"To punish her!" he sneered. "Why else?!"

"What did she do?"

"Magda caught her stealing whiskey from the kitchen."

"_Nein_!" cried Sarah. "Overseer Joshua —"

"Quiet you!" Christoph's father raise the whip again, but his son caught his arm.

"She said Joshua." Christoph stared daggers at his father. "You've seen how he is never without a bottle in hand." He called out to the boy in English. "Samuel, go find Joshua. Tell him my father want to speak with him now!"

The boy nodded and took off running toward the cotton fields.

Christoph released his father's arm and flashed him a look of pure hatred. His father flinched as Christoph snatched the Bowie knife from his belt. For the smallest moment, so small I barely noticed myself, Christoph was toying with the idea of burying the knife in his father's neck. Instead he simply walked to Sarah was crying in agony. I watched as he hurriedly cut the ropes that bound her to the tree. The second he did, Sarah fell to her knees and then over. It seems that only the tightness of the rope were all that were keeping her on her feet.

To my surprise, Christoph quickly rushed to her and gathered her in his arms. He took out a pocket watch from his pants and examined it for fifteen seconds. He appeared to be taking her pulse as he looked worried. He pocketed the watch and stood with Sarah in his arms. He turned toward a small building east of the main house.

"Where do you think you're taking her?!" the father barked in German.

"To the infirmary to treat her." Christoph shot back without stopping. "That's why you had it built and sent me to that medical school, remember? So you wouldn't have to call on the doctor all the way in town."

"It's for us."

"It's for whomever I say it is for."

I blinked and I was standing in a small room with a bed and cabinets. There also was a bookshelf filled with my medical books and small iron stove to keep the room warm in the winter and boil water. Sarah was laying on the bed on her stomach as Christoph cleaned the wounds on her back. He sat in a chair dabbing away at the dirt and dried blood with a wet rag he'd squeeze and rinse into a bowl of water. I noticed how carefully and gently he went about treating Sarah. It was almost as if he actually cared for her.

He made some sort of paste with dried herbs and warm water in a mortar and carefully spread it on long scraps of cloth and applied them to to her back. He then retrieved a long piece of cloth from a nearby cabinet and cut it to fit to Sarah's shape. Once he had that, he reached into a doctor's bag on the floor and took out a small stopped clay jar and paint brush. He dipped the brush into the jar and began applying a generous amount of honey along the edge. He worked quickly and draped it on Sarah's back. He pressed on the edges to seal the cloth against her skin.

"I'm sorry I was not there to protect you." Christoph said quietly in German. "I was tending to Lionel in the kitchen. Fool boy doesn't seem to realize boiling water is hot."

"It is not your fault." Sarah moved to face Christoph, but winced.

"Try not to move." Christoph knelt to face Sarah. "That poultice should help with pain and help fight any infection, but your back will take time to heal. Tonight, when I change your bandages, I will see if I can stitch them together so your skin knits together properly."

"What would I do without you?" Sarah smiled sweetly and caressed Christoph's face. "My sweet little _schatz_."

"And I you." Christoph took her hand in his and kissed it. "My _Liebling_."

"Do you think he knows about us?" Sarah whispered.

"No." Christoph sighed. "But he probably suspects something after today."

They continued speaking and I was convinced. I knew many southern slave owner used black women as literal sex slaves, often having children with them, but Christoph was not the case. He clearly cared for and loved Sarah. Naturally, circumstances forced them to hide their relationship. Christoph's father would probably kill Sarah or, at the very least, sell her and arrange a wife for Christoph to separate them. God forbid Sarah had his children.

Like before the world swirled.

I was still standing in the infirmary, but clearly some time had passed. At least a year judging by Sarah's appearance. Sarah had recovered in that time as she bent and reached for various items and quickly stuffed them in a doctor's bag. I looked around saw that, while the furniture was still in same places as before, most of the room was bare. I followed as Sarah closed the bag and ran out to the main house.

A small group was gathered in front. A few house slaves, some of the overseers, and couple that was Christoph's mother and father. Christoph himself was mounted on a horse with bulging saddlebags. His mother handed him a familiar looking hat. It was black with a ring of claws around the brim. I realized it was the same hat Sarah had been wearing tonight. He was also wearing an eerily familiar tanned duster. Christoph's father handed him a rolled up paper wrapped in leather just as Sarah arrived with the bag. She handed the bag Christoph and carefully retreated.

"Where do you think you're going?" Christoph asked Sarah.

"Sir?" Sarah looked up.

"Get on." Christoph held up the leather wrapped piece of paper. "According to this, I am your new master. A gift from my father. You will accompany me to Fort Wesson and tend to me as you do here." He held out a hand. "Now get on."

Sarah mounted and they took off at a light pace.

The world shifted and swirled once more and I found I was standing under a large oak tree at night. Christoph and Sarah were sitting next to each other as they roasted a rabbit over a small cook fire. They must have made camp for night.

"You have refused to talk about it all day." Sarah told him. "Why did you not tell me that you were leaving for Fort Wesson to teach medicine until last week?"

"Because I am not." Christoph said with a wry smile.

"But your father said the army sent a letter asking for you after treating that doctor in town."

"Yes, I did treat an army doctor, but that was the extent of it. It was then it gave me an idea" Christoph explained. "I had Samuel hand deliver a letter to Bonnie at the General Store and have her mail it to me in a month. I sent her some money to not tell anyone."

"I do not understand."

"Fort Messon is two weeks away to the far west almost on the coast of California. We will be heading east in the opposite direction away from New Mexico." Christoph smiled again. "If everything goes as planned, my father won't know anything is amiss for at least a month and we'll be gone by that time in the opposite direction."

"But what will you do?"

"For now, I'm focused on reaching Oklahoma by the end of the month and then head northeast until we reach New York City. From what I hear, it is always in need of doctors."

"What of me?" Sarah asked. "Am to assist you?"

"No." Christoph shook his head. "You will have your hands full with the children."

"Children?" Sarah looked and froze when she saw what Christoph was holding. "What child -"

He held up a two simple golden rings. "They belonged to my grandparents before they died in Dusseldorf."

"I -I-I. " It was all Sarah could say.

"My mother gave me this so I could propose to a woman properly." He held on out. "So, Sarah, will you marry me and become Sarah Von Waltz?"

Rather than answer, Sarah kissed him deeply on the mouth before pushing him down on the ground. From there, things proceeded how one would expect them to.

Truth be told, it was sweet. Christoph had essentially chosen Sarah, a black woman slave, over his family. I only hoped they had lived a happy life together before Sarah was turned. I doubted it. It was rare that anything good came out of being turned. At least not right away.

I blinked and I was suddenly standing in front a building across a dirt road from a saloon. It was very early with the sun just beginning to rise. Sarah was securing everything on saddlebag of a horse. Her clothes had changed. Instead of the rags that she had been wearing when Christoph proposed, she traveled worn pants and boots. She didn't have a holster or weapons of any kind, naturally due to her status as property, except for the hilt of knife sticking out of a boot. Her hair was clean and had been braided into a tail.

Suddenly a chair flew out of a window on the second floor of the saloon. Sarah turned to see a chubby man squeeze through the window. To my surpsie Sarah smiled and pulled the cord on a rolled up pack. In the blink of an eye, three rifles revealed themselves snug in leather harnesses sewned into the roll. Sarah took the top one, a Henry repeating rifle I would alter learn, and checked the chamber.

By that time, the man has climbed down the side of the saloon and had just mounted a horse. He quickly took off south and blurred past Sarah. Like she had done it several times already, Sarah closed one eye as she took aim and fired. The bullet didn't miss outright, grazing the man's left arm, but it didn't stop him. She quickly worked the lever and took aim again before firing twice more. The second shot grazed the horse, but the third found it's mark and the man fell right off as the horse continued galloping into the distance.

Just the man hit the ground Christoph came out from the saloon, a revolver in hand. Without missing a beat, he ran to Sarah who tossed him the rifle.

"I counted three shots." Christoph teased in German. "You're slipping."

"I'm tired." Sarah countered. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"And whose fault is that?"

"And shirk my wifely duties?" Sarah kissed her husband. "Not in a million years."

"What in the of the virgin mary is goin' on here?"

They both turned to face an older man, with graying beard and mustache with a sheriff's badge pinned to his chest. He had a revolver in his holster and shotgun in his hands. Behind him were two young looking men that wore similar badges, his deputies.

"Sorry for the abrupt wake up, Sheriff." Christoph took out sheet of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it before handing it to the sheriff. "But no rest for the wicked."

"John Williamson." The sheriff read. "Wanted for robbery and murder. Reward's for two hundred dollars." He looked over to his deputies and showed the paper. "This man check his iron before you let him into town."

"Well, sure he did." The younger one said. "Came in about three days ago, I think. Said he was on his way to visit family or somethin' like that. Didn't put no fuss about it like most folk did."

"And did you check to see if he matched any of them new wanted posters we got last week?" His superior demanded. "Like Jim here told ya to?"

"No one told me nothing." He shrugged.

"I don't mean to interrupt." Christoph pointed to where John's body laid. "But seeing as he's dead either way, may I have the money promised?"

"Alright." The sheriff motioned for them to follow. "I got the money for you bounty hunters in a safe in the jail. Dale and Jim here will go get ol'John over there and bring him back. If he checks out, you'll have your money with no fuss."

"Should I bring the horse?" Sarah asked.

"Who's she?"

"She is with me." Christoph answered automatically. "Takes care of the horse and buys supplies when we come into town while I'm busy."

"Oh." The sheriff nodded. "You can hitch your nag on the post out front."

I blinked and found myself following Sarah and Christoph as they traveled on horseback. Judging the by the sun, they appeared to be traveling north. They could have been heading south, but I doubted it.

"I thought you said you wanted to be a doctor." Sarah said in German.

"I still do." Christoph protested. "That's why we're heading to New York City."

"That was a year ago." Sarah remarked.

"And?"

"We've only now reached halfway through Kentucky. I know we need money, but this bounty hunting is delaying us too much."

"I recall you practically jumping with joy when I brought it up. You said, kill white people and get paid for it? What's not to like?"

"Evil white people." She corrected. "I stand by what I said, and I still do, but what about raising family? We won't be young forever."

"We have plenty of time." Christoph sighed. "But I understand. We should avoid chasing bounties for so long. That John man alone took two weeks of running in circles."

"I'm not saying we stop altogether." Sarah hugged Christoph and planted a kiss on his neck. "If one just happens to fall in our lap . . . we could always use a few dollars."

"What do you say if we pick up the pace and reach Lexington tonight instead of tomorrow morning?" Christoph asked wryly.

"We'll have to let Fritz rest when we reach it." Sarah said innocently

"Oh, I think we can find something to do while she does."

The world swirled again.

It was like being dropped at the climax of a movie. Gunshots erupted from half a dozen rifles as Sarah raced through a swamp on horseback. It was night with the full moon providing the only light on the muddy path. Sarah did not even flinch as bullets passed only inches away from her face only to bury themselves in the trunks of tress, erupting in an explosions of splinters. Even in the pale moon light, I could see Sarah was exhausted. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and constantly shook her head as she continued to push her horse to the limit. Who knew how long she was being chased. As to why, I surmised the had bitten off more than they could chew with their bounty hunting.

It wasn't until that her horse leapt over fallen log that I finally saw Christoph. He was draped across the horse in front of Sarah and had been tied down to prevent him from fallen. I also saw at least four bullet wounds on his back. Even if somehow all four had missed something vital, it was rare even with modern medical techniques that could survive that. It was a shame. In another life, Sarah and Christoph probably could have had a happy life together.

As soon as they cleared the log, Sarah pulled on the reins. The horse slid to stop and Sarah looked back at a small cluster of lanterns closing in. She looked ahead to the empty path and seemed to be formulating a plan. She took the revolver from Christoph's holster and stuck it in her waistband and slowly dismounted. Her left leg buckled and she almost fell to her knees. She looked down and saw blood staining her pant leg. With a snarl, she snatched a shotgun and checked it was loaded. It was. She slapped the horse's hindquarters and it took off as she limped off the path behind a tree.

Sarah hardly had to wait a minute as the sound of galloping horses mixed with yelling of men began to grow louder. A moment later, six men on horseback galloped past. With a deep breath, Sarah emerged and took aim.

The first shot took the man in back of group forward off his horse. Before he was halfway to the ground, Sarah fired the second barrel and it took half of another man's face. He hit the ground a full second after the first with a muddy splash. By that time, the rest of the group realized that Sarah had managed to disappear and reappear behind them and began to turn, but even horses could not turn on dime at full speed.

Even though she had taken out two men, Sarah still had four armed men to deal with and she had already given away her position. However, she had a slight advantage. She had planned ahead while they could only react.

Rather than reloading the shotgun, Sarah dropped it as she drew Christoph's revolver. She took quickly thumbed back the hammer and fired. The bullet missed and hit a lantern. Even with the moonlight and the lanterns, it was difficult to see in the darkness. At least for human eyes, I could see perfectly fine. However, it did cause the lantern to explode and the sudden burst of light was enough to make the nearest man to shield his eyes. It also gave enough light for Sarah to fire off another round it caught the man in the neck. It didn't kill him outright like the first two, but raging river of blood running down his neck as he choked and gurgled was see to that he did soon enough. He quickly lost his balance and toppled off his horse. That made three down and three more to go.

If I was watching a movie, I'd complain on how it failed to create tension when I knew perfectly well that Sarah was in no real danger seeing as how she survived long enough to be that as the case, I was on the edge of my seat so to speak.

To my surprise, one of the men took off running, screaming ,"Fuck this! I ain't lettin' some coon kill me!"

The other two however did not share his fear and fired at Sarah. She managed to move, despite her injured leg, but a round in hip. it split a canteen, drenching the ground by Sarah with water, on her belt, but it appeared that was the only thing that had been hit. It also had enough force to knock Sarah off balance and combined with her injured leg, it was enough for her to totter to the ground. What happened next was nothing short that a work of God. It was million to one shot, but it happened. Not even aiming, Sarah reflexively clenched her hand and the trigger with it. I watched as the round shot of the barrel, across the space between Sarah and her attackers, and split the skull of a horse.

The horse collapsed like puppet that just had its strings cut with its rider along for the ride. That ride would be his last. Falling six feet from a horse is dangerous enough, but it is even worse when all one thousand pounds of dead weight follow you. Had he simply fallen off, all the tree trunk would have done was give him a survivable concussion. Instead, the weight of his dead horse fell with him and his neck was unable to bear its weight and snapped it like a toothpick.

However, Sarah's feat was short lived as the second and final rider's round plowed into her left shoulder. Sarah cried in agony as she landed hard in the mud. Sarah gritted her teeth while she held her wounded shoulder. Blood poured from the injury soaking what was left her shirt and staining her palm crimson. I looked over to the man on the horse. He pulled the trigger and thumbed back the hammer on his revolver half a dozen times before he was sure it was empty. He reached for more ammunition on his belt, but came up empty. That was when he reached into a saddlebag just behind him on his right. I though he was reaching for a rifle or another pistol, but I was wrong.

Whomever the man was, he was either a veteran of the U.S - Mexican war and kept a souvenir or had known one. He held a 1840 Cavalry Saber. I had no way of know for certain, but the name of the weapon popped into my head easily as if I was giving my name. There was not a moment of hesitation. I also knew it had a a ridge around its quillon, a leather grip wrapped in wire, and a flat, slotted throat. It was forty-four inches in length with a thirty-five inch blade.

The man dug in his spurs and charged Sarah with battle yell of the desperately angered.

That yell was probably the worst mistake he could have made. It was just enough to snap Sarah back to the present. Naturally, she had been occupied in dealing with the pain that came with even the slightest movement. She looked up to see a lone man charging at her with a sword, half leaning out and low to compensate for her low position. She tried to stand, but her shoulder and leg proved too much to allow it. It did allow her to realize that she had dropped her revolver only a few inches from her knee. She quickly snatched it up and pulled the trigger only to hear a click. She thumbed back the hammer and pulled the trigger. Again, click. By this time, the rider was almost on her with the intent of taking her head. With nothing to lose and no time for another shot, Sarah thumbed back the hammer and pulled the trigger.

A cone of light and sparks erupted from the end of the barrel. The rider reacted as if something had struck him in the chest just a red and wet splotch appeared right over his sternum. He lost his grip on both the reins and the sword as he toppled off the horse and rolled, stopping at Sarah's feet. The horse, no doubt not wishing to join his master and brethren, continued running past Sarah and disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

With the last of the threats dealt with, Sarah did the only thing she could do and fell back down on her back. She was at her limit. Her leg had been severely injured and it probably had been days since she last slept or eaten. She had used the last of her strength to deal with her pursuers. While she had survived, she was not out of danger yet. There still was that one rider that took off. He couldn't have gotten far and the lull in gunfire would probably be enough to arouse his curiosity enough to investigate. I doubted, and probably Sarah, he would flee for a second time.

Call it divine intervention, fate, or just the biggest coincidence in the world a figure approached from around the bend in the trail. I thought it was the fleeing rider, but I was wrong. It was a horse, Sarah's horse. Christoph's limp body still hung on either side as it picked it's way toward Sarah. It nudged the dead horse's body and rolled body over. It appeared as if it was searching for something. Or someone. It was when it came to investigate the body closest to her that it finally noticed Sarah.

It nudged her gently in the side, but got no reaction. It tried again, a bit harder this time and Sarah groaned. The horse nickered and shook its head before it licked Sarah's face. She moaned as she opened her eyes.

"Fritz?" She said weary beyond words. "You came back."

Without a word from Sarah, Fritz picked up the shotgun from the mud and dropped it by Sarah. Then, as if he knew what needed to be done, he knelt low and looked to Sarah. Using the shotgun for support, Sarah forced herself up and got in the saddle. With sluggish hands, she grabbed the reins and urged Fritz forward.

I blinked and found myself standing by a large tree in small clearing. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't be more than a few hours. Perhaps even a day. It was still night and Christoph was still tied to Fritz who was laying down around a dying campfire and tied himself to smaller tree that had fallen some time ago. Sarah was dead asleep leaning against the tree to keep her upright. She was not sleeping well. Her breathing was strained and her body was shivering despite being wrapped in a heavy blanket. Every now and then she would wake and cough before falling back asleep.

Suddenly, Fritz's ears twitched and he suddenly whipped his head to the darkness. He nickered as stood stock still like a statue, except for his ear that moved like antennae. He seemed to calm down for a moment until a gentle breeze blew toward them. Fritz's eyes went wide and he neighed loudly and struggled to quickly stand so he could run. It wasn't until that he took two steps that he realized he was tied to a much larger and heavier tree. That still didn't stop him from yanking and neighing in a panicked frenzy.

Naturally, all this noise was enough to wake Sarah, tired and sick as she was. It took her a moment, but she managed to pull out the shotgun from under the blanket. Stifling a fit of coughing, Sarah thumbed back the hammer slowly as she stared into the darkness for the faintest hint of movement.

That was all he would ever see.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and an explosion of blood and bone erupted between his eyes. Like a sack of rocks, Fritz collapsed and moved no more. Sarah fired both rounds in the direction of the flash. She waited a moment before a man emerged from the darkness, just on the edge of fire light. He was had a revolver pointed at her.

Sarah broke open the shotgun, but the man fired into the air and she froze. He motioned to the side and thumbed back the hammer. With no choice, she tossed the shotgun to the side which wasn't far due to her injured shoulder. He began to walker closer speaking, but his words were garbled and impossible to make out. Sarah was suffering from significant blood loss, lack of sleep, and I wagered an infection from her leg. If I was reliving her memories, it made sense I would experience as she did. If she couldn't make out the man's words, then I couldn't either.

He was smiling now and standing across from Sarah on the opposite side of the campfire. He was beyond ugly. Cracking yellow tombstone for teeth, beady brown eyes, a face that hadn't shaved or washed in days, and fat body. He was still talking, but it was incoherent like the rest. He took one step around the fire towards Sarah and that was as close as he got.

The moment his foot just touched the ground, a blur came out from the darkness . At first, all that Sarah saw was a reddish blur. It wasn't until the blur pounced on her attacker's neck that she saw it was a woman. The woman was pale as moonlight with eyes green as emeralds. Her long red hair hung loose and stopped just above her waist. It was that, Sarah realized, had been what she saw.

It was HER.

Rather than a dress, which was Sarah was accustomed to seeing on white women regardless of their standing, SHE wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Even if the shirt had been cleaned and brand new, which it wasn't, it was not the pristine shade of her skin. Over the shirt was a worn black denim vest. Or rather it was a black denim jacket that SHE had torn the sleeves a couple of inches from the shoulder. At first glance, SHE also wore dark denim pants, but second look proved they were simply dark pinstriped bootcut pants. Instead of slippers, boots, or footwear of any kind her feet were bare and stained with dust and mud.

Now that SHE was before her, Sarah saw she was beautiful. There were only one thing that offset her beauty.

It was the fact she was drinking the man's blood. Naturally, he tried to struggle, but SHE placed a hand on his neck and squeezed. Despite it being a single hand, he quickly turned purple and gasped for air. His movement began to slow until they finally stopped. The entire time, the SHE did not lift her mouth from her neck.

SHE did eventually stop. She pushed herself up and licked her lips. It was then she seemed to notice Sarah. Frightened, Sarah tried to reach for the shotgun. Faster than she thought possible, SHE moved and snatched the weapon all in the blink of an eye. She examined it for a moment before tossing it behind the man's body, out of Sarah's reach. Sarah made a movement under the blanket, but it was futile. Sarah had barely twitched before SHE tore the blanket away. She then bent and snatched the revolver from it's holster on Sarah's left hip and the knife on her right. SHE casually tossed the revolver and knife by Fritz's body. Sarah tried throw a punch, but SHE caught it.

"Such spirit." SHE said releasing Sarah's hand and sitting casually across from her with her back to the fire. "Even now."

"What . . . are . . . you?" coughed Sarah.

"It would take time to explain." SHE looked at her without pity. "Time you do not have."

"What do you mean?"

"Your leg is badly infected." SHE told her. "I can smell it from here."

"I've survived worse."

"I do not doubt it." SHE licked her lips. "But you won't if you do not see to your wounds. That leg is already taking its toll on your body."

"What do you want?" Sarah coughed again.

"The question is, what do you want?" SHE looked over to Christoph. "Now that you've lost your husband."

"How . . ."

"You both wearing matching wedding bands." SHE explained. "It is rare for your people to wear such things. It is not a thing for one to miss so easily. Am I incorrect?"

"No." Sarah sighed and spared Christoph a glance. "I was his wife for the past three years."

"I see." SHE motioned to Sarah. "What will you do now?"

"I do not know." Sarah coughed. "You killed the last of his killers."

"Ah, I thought it was you." SHE seemed to be considering something. "Those men on the road a short way south. I suppose I owe you my thanks."

"How so?"

"I was hunting." SHE said simply. "I caught the scent of blood and found enough of it satisy me."

"You drink blood?"

"Yes." SHE spared a glanced at the man's body still laying a few feet away and sneered. "Although, I could have without him. It was like biting into a rotten fruit after a fine meal. Off putting." Then SHE looked back to Sarah. "Then again, I did rob you of your proper vengeance. For that, you have my apologies."

"He would have killed me."

"But what if he hadn't?" SHE asked. "One can never know how events will occur until after they occur."

"I wouldn't predicted you coming to my aid." Sarah relented. "Do you have a name?"

"Wilhelmina." SHE answered. "Wilhelmina Wallace.

"I am Sarah Von Waltz." She coughed and struggled to catch her breath. "Why did you help me?"

"I wanted to speak with you." SHE said simply. "Your death would have prevented that."

"Why?"

"Not many could be pursued and outnumbered six to one for so long and survive." SHE smiled slightly. "Yet, not only did you, but you managed to turn the tables. It is altogether more impressive that you accomplished such feat after incurring such an injury that would have left any lesser human to weak to stand."

"My shoulder and that man prove your wrong." Sarah winced to readjust herself against the tree.

"Five out of six is nothing to scoff at. How did you escape if he survived?"

"He ran away and I wasn't able to track him down."

"He fled and waited until you were unable to fight." SHE simplified. "A coward's ploy. No wonder he tasted terrible."

"Now that you know, what will you do?" Sarah asked. "Drink what is left of my blood?"

"I had planned on it." SHE looked Sarah up and down and licked her lips at the thought. "But now I am thinking of something else as well."

"I do not understand."

"You have seen a small fraction of what I can do." SHE stood up and straddled Sarah, her legs on either side. "How would you like to look down on others for a change? Instead having other decide your fate without care or regard, you would decide your fate and theirs." SHE cupped Sarah's face gently almost like a lover. "You could do what you would with your body and revel in pleasures you never thought possible. No longer would you be bound by the law of small minded men."

"For what price?" Sarah coughed. "I was clothed, fed, and given board in a plantation in New Mexico, but I rather die than go back."

"Your life." SHE said releasing her face. "You will die."

"Oh, is that all?"

"You are already dying." SHE said callously. "What difference will it make if it now or slowly over the next few hours? For all intents and purposes, you will simply be in a very deep sleep for three nights. I am merely giving you a chance to wake from that sleep."

"Can you explain?"

"Just know that there is a chance you will die and remain so."

"And Christoph?"

"Your husband? He is already dead. You are merely dying. There is nothing I can do for him."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Do you believe in God?" SHE asked. "If so and you think you will join your Christoph in paradise, then refuse my gift. I will not be insulted. I will just leave you here and let nature take its course." SHE then brushed a lock of hair behind Sarah's ear lovingly. "Mind you, that is the same God whose book others have used to justify their cruel treatment of you and your people. Who truly knows what will happen? All that can be agreed on is that it is permanent."

Sarah paused and seemed to think it over. It struck me as strange. SHE was actually offering Sarah a choice. Granted, that choice was essentially die or live with major restrictions, but it was a choice. It was choice that SHE hadn't bothered to offer me. She had planned on draining me and had changed her mind three quarters of the way through. It occurred to me that perhaps SHE had a bone to pick with men. According to Sarah, SHE had preferred women and SHE never did anything without a reason. Had something happened when SHE human that lead to her hating men and she took it out on me because I somehow reminded her of it? Had her maker been cruel and ruthless and it was only until he grew bored of her that she escaped? So many questions left answered.

"If I should die," Sarah said after a while. "Can you give us a proper burial?"

"Yes." SHE asked. "Would you like share the grave?"

"Yes."

"Is that all?"

"If I become like you, I will write a letter to his family. I owe him that." Sarah said. "If not, then let the mystery keep them up at night until they die."

"Until they die?" SHE smiled. "I like that."

SHE, to Sarah's surprise, gave her a quick peck on the lips before picking up the knife she had taken from Sarah. SHE then quickly nicked the right side of her neck. Blood flowed from the wound and ran down her neck, staining her shirt. Sarah clearly was not sure how to proceed so SHE pushed her mouth to her neck.

"You must drink." SHE said gently

Sarah hesitated, but she quickly steeled herself and began to suck and drink her blood. SHE let Sarah drink for a bit, no doubt wanting her wounds to start healing before she brought her over. It gave her the bonus to enjoy herself a bit. While they had talked, HER fangs had begun to retract until they were hidden. Now they were fully down as Sarah suckled at her neck which made her moan and groan. Then, after taking all she could take, SHE sank her fangs into Sarah's neck. Sarah, naturally, jumped at the pain, but she kept drinking. However, Sarah began to slow until she stopped altogether. It took her a moment, but SHE sensed something had changed and stopped. SHE quickly removed herself and gently laid Sarah down. I watched as SHE, liked she often did we spoke in bed, prop herself up on an elbow.

"I . . . feel . . . ." Sarah manged to slur as she fought to stay awake. "Can't . . . "

"Shhhhh." SHE placed a finger on her lips. "It will pass. Just close your eyes, my child." SHE then bent down and kissed Sarah full on the mouth. "When you wake, I will show you a brand new world."

Then, eerily similar to when I had been turned, Sarah's world and the world around faded to black.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>AN**_ - _Sorry about the cliff hanger, but Sarah's backstory got away from me. The next chapter should wrap it up and continue the rest of the story. I apologize in advance for infrequent update in the future since I'll be starting college in less than a week. I'll keep writing and try to update, but if I'm forced to chose between school and this, well I think you can guess which will come first. Thanks for understanding._

_**P.S**_ - _Thanks to those who voted and got me third place in the WIP awards. Please share, rate, and review. Who knows? We might make my next story a winner._


	11. Sarah Von Waltz to Jagerin

I wondered if this was what Purgatory was supposed to be.

There was nothing. Just darkness. Then, like before, the world began to slowly fade in. I realized. of course, Sarah wouldn't have any memories of being actually dead. As far as her "brain" was concerned she merely fell asleep for however long she did and hadn't dreamed a thing. I had similar experience when I had not slept for two straight days and nights. When I eventually did sleep, I did not awake for twenty-four hours. However, it felt like it had been only a few minutes so deep the sleep was. After all, what sleep is deeper than the Big Sleep?

I was standing on a hard dirt stone floor. It was a light brown like clay that collected along riverbanks. The walls matched the floor with thick wooden beams in each of the four corners of the room. Overhead, similar wooden beams ran the length of the room with thinner planks laid over them. It took me a moment, but I learned I was in a basement and the wooden planks were the wood floor in level above me and the beams were, naturally, support beams that prevented from the rest from collapsing on itself.

A flight of stairs faded into place. They were made of the same hardened dirt as the floor. At the top of the stairs was a thick wooden door which was barred by two large piece of wood near the top and bottom. They were almost half a foot thick and ran across it. They were held up by strong black iron hooks on either side of the door. Unless they were removed, it would nigh impossible to open the door without taking tools or fire to it. Finally, a large four poster bed came into place. It was made entirely of polished wood and had clearly taken months under a master craftsman's keen eye. The head board was giant in comparison to the foot board. In fact, it was wider and taller then the rest of the bed. The grain of the wood ran along it like waves of water frozen in time and shined as if someone had just waxed the wood.

Instead of sheets, or rather sheets as that I was accustomed to, the bed was made with animal furs. The blanket, or quilt really, was a the thick fur hide of bear with the claws still attached to each corner. The fur was jet black with the hair relatively short, but still thick in comparison to say a dog or a cat. Even the pillows were just stuffed beaver hides. Then two lumps formed under it and I knew how it was.

Of course SHE was going to be there along with Sarah.

Sure enough, the lumps began to take a more human shape with all the beautiful curves and curls I had grown to love. Then came that majestic weave of crimson hair. She was sitting up on an elbow and looking down at the second lump, Sarah naturally, with a strange warmth to her face. In a very motherly gesture, SHE brushed Sarah's loose hair her ear. SHE then caressed Sarah's cheek and smiled slightly to herself as she was proud of some accomplishment. I suppose it was in a way. Turning a human is simple, but never easy without practice. The human tended to simply die more often than not if the Maker's blood was administered quickly enough or insufficient amounts were given. I took it mean that was why SHE hadn't completely drained me. Had she, I wouldn't have been conscious enough to drink like I had.

Hardly a moment had passed before Sarah began to stir. She opened her eye and struggled to sit up. SHE merely smiled amused and leaned over the edge of the bed and rang a small bell. Naturally, Sarah flinched at the sound with her newfound ear sensitivity. I turned to the sound of door creaking open at the top of the stairs which was immediately followed by the sound of light footsteps coming down. A woman came into view. She was an older woman, somewhere in her late thirties or early forties, and was clearly a house slave. Her skin was lighter than Sarah, but she was still clearly black. She wore a simple dark dress that was long and wide enough to hid her feet from view with a worn off-white apron over it. Her hair was short or tied back. It was difficult to tell with the colored rag she wore on her head.

I watched Sarah carefully. The moment she cleared her thoughts, this slave was dead.

"Ms. Wallace." She gave quick curtsy. "Is there something you need?"

"Yes, Betty." SHE spared Sarah a glance. "Fetch me two suitcases and see that my clothes and clothes for my companion packed within the hour." SHE paused then said. "Oh, and make sure they are decent clothes. None of those cheap rags your master sees fit to give you."

"Yes, ma'am." Betty nodded quickly. "But, uh, excuse me, ma'am, Massa Thomas won't like that."

"Simply tell him to speak with me." SHE said plainly. "I will sort it out."

It seemed the hunger had finally reared its ugly head. Sarah was now watching Betty's every breath and, more importantly, her throat that throbbed with every heartbeat. I estimated she was less than a second from pouncing on Betty like lion would a gazelle. Sarah's mouth parted slightly and I, as well as Betty, could see the tips of her newly grown fangs.

"Not now." SHE commanded laying a hand on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah whipped her head to face her. "I understand, but not much longer." SHE turned to speak to Betty. "Take care not to move too quickly until you are out of sight."

Betty gave a quick bow and walked back up the stairs, her footsteps becoming rapid towards the top before the door slamming shot. Sarah's hands fleew up to cover her ears at the sound. SHE smiled and gently removed Sarah's hands.

"I know." SHE said gently. "It will take some time until you are accustomed."

"Wilhelmina?" Sarah asked unsure.

"Ah, you remember." SHE seemed pleased. "Tell me, what else do you remember? Leave nothing out."

"I - I - I remember . . ." Sarah shook head, no doubt the hunger making it difficult to focus. "I was hurt . . . and . . . you killed a man . . . " She placed a hand over face. "Please . . . I can't . . .so hungry."

"It won't be too long." SHE assured as she lifted Sarah's face to her and cradled her cheek. "Come, we will not be able to stay near humans in your state for some time."

SHE got out of bed and walked, naked, to a chair tucked in the corner that I had missed that had a small unfolded pile of clothes. SHE held the clothes to her nose for a second, no doubt seeing if the clothes were still fresh enough to wear. With a shurg, SHE threw on an off-white cotton shirt that she tucked into a pair of dark brown trousers. Both and Sarah watched her every move as SHE buckled a belt and buttoned an emerald weave vest over the shirt. SHE was tying a [air of old leather shoes when a loud banging came from at the door.

Sarah hissed at the sound, startled.

"Wait!" SHE whispered and Sarah relaxed, watching her like a confused house cat. "Stay here and I will see what he wants."

Sarah and I watched as SHE walked to the stairs and disappeared when she began climbing them. Due to being ordered to not follow Sarah, and by extension me, did not see, but she had heard every word said between whomever was knocking and SHE.

"Ah, Mister Byrne." SHE greeted warmly. "May I help you?"

"Ya most certainly can, Lass." said a man in a clear, but accusing, Irish accent. "What's with ye orderin' Betty ta fetch clothes fer you an' friend?"

"As I told you when you allowed me to reside here, it was temporary." SHE said politely.

"Yeah," Byrne agreed. "but nothing was said 'bout you bringing runaway slaves into my house in the dead of night. Not ta mention Betty tells me ya both been sharing a bed for the past couple of nights."

"What are you implying?" SHE said coolly. "Last I was told, only one of us is married and it is not I."

"Now what are ya implyin'?" Byrne growled.

"As the book you swore upon when you wedded your wife claims, let he who is without sin cast the next stone." SHE said sounding a bit smug.

"Ya fuckin 'hore!" Byrne shouted

There was the sudden sound of flesh slapping flesh which was quickly followed by the sound of bones cracking.

"Oh, God!" cried Byrne. "Let go! My arm!"

"I have been many things in my time." SHE said clearly annoyed. "But a whore I will never be!" At the her final word, came the clear unmistakable sound of a bone snapping like a toothpick.

"AHH!" Byrne cried out.

SHE didn't allow Byrne to wallow in pain for too much. Neither Sarah or I saw, but SHE tossed Byrne down the stairs where he tumbled loudly and came to hard stop against the wall. Against all odds, he didn't break his neck in the fall, but he did smack the wall hard enough to draw blood.

And that was the end of Thomas Byrne.

Like when I first scented the undeniable allure of fresh blood, Sarah leapt from the bed and pounced on Byrne's neck before he could blink. He made sound somewhere between a gasp and a yelp as tried to throw Sarah off, but he was fighting the inevitable. Even if he hadn't been severely injured after being tossed down a flight of stairs, there wasn't human strong to fend off even the weakest vampire and the desperation of an infant was not something even elder vampires ignored completely.

I watched for a moment as Sarah drained Byrne when I heard a scream and whipped towards the top of stairs. It had barely registered as the scream of a woman when it was suddenly cut off as soon as it began. It was quickly followed by same sound that Byrne had made when SHE threw him down the stairs. Sarah clearly sensed something and detached herself from Byrne's neck just as a white woman, probably Byrne's wife since she did not resemble him in the slightest, broke her fall on his limp body. She managed to push herself up and saw whom she was sitting on. Sarah, naturally of course, did not appreciate having her meal being interrupted and snarled. Mrs. Byrne cried out and tried to escape up the stairs on all fours, but Sarah effortlessly seized her by the ankle and yanked her back to her. I heard a very loud pop and screamed at the top of her lungs which was expected considering Sarah had dislocated her leg from her pelvis. Ignoring her scream filled sobs, Sarah sank her fangs into her neck.

It wasn't long before she also went limp and quiet as her husband. As I stood there and Sarah drained the last of Byrnes, a voice came from above. A voice that Sarah heard, but chose to ignore in favor sucking down the remaining drop of blood.

"Ma'am." said a male voice. "Is everything alright? We heard screamin'."

"Everything is fine, Timothy." SHE assured. "Ah, I see Betty enlisted your help."

"Yessm." Timothy agreed. "She said you'd be wanting this right away."

"Clever woman." SHE remarked. "Now, Timothy, I want you to listen very carefully. It could mean your life."

"Ma'am?"

"Whatever happens next, do make any sudden movements and do not scream." Then came the creak of the door being opened. "Sarah!"

In the time it took me to blink, Sarah lifted her head from the now late Byrne couple and raced up the stairs. I found myself standing in a larger foyer. Both the ceiling and floor molding were bright white as were the columns that were made to resemble the marble version of Rome. The walls had wallpaper that had a beige base with light green vine like stems in neat rows. All along the stems were delicate looking flowers in colors that made them stand out against the mix of beige and green. The furniture was minimal, but high quality. There was a dark mahogany hat rack to my right just to the side of the front door with a small can that held a few canes and an umbrella or two. To my left, there was a flight of stairs the led up to balcony with a room on each end and one in the center.

A lean black man, Timothy I assumed, stood in front of me with his back to me. He was dressed a typical butler — white gloves, white shirt, black pants, black jacket, and polished shoes. He was still as a statue and I could see it was taking every ounce of self control not to scream or run. I'd also wager he was confused at how beautiful Sarah's naked body was while being terrified at the blood stains on her mouth and ran down her neck.

"Timothy, would you please?" SHE said politely. "Slowly."

Timothy did as was told. It was actually quite impressive, but it was ruined when Sarah suddenly tilted her head and involuntary flinched. Sarah lunged forward just as Timothy cowered behind his arms, but her hiss was shoved back down her throat when SHE seized her by the neck like a kitten and yanked her back.

"I am sorry, Timothy." SHE said gently, keeping a firm grip on Sarah's neck. "Please go assist Bessie."

SHE waited until Timothy left before releasing Sarah. Naturally still hungry, like a dog catching sight of a rabbit, Sarah took off after Timothy. SHE rolled her eyes and appeared before Sarah, stopping her.

"Enough!" SHE snapped. She nodded once Sarah relaxed her body. "Good!" She nodded once. "Now put on those clothes." SHE then gave Sarah a very quick once over and smiled slightly. "It's very distracting."

I couldn't help, but chuckle. It was classic HER. Sarah also must've guessed HER double meaning and quickly dressed. Sarah stepped into a pair old, but clean looking, tan trousers. She then threw on a light green collared shirt that she quickly buttoned up to her neck.

"Here." SHE held out a rag. "Clean your face. It'll scare the others." Then she looked down and saw Sarah was barefoot. "I thought as much. No matter."

"Miss Wallace?" Betty and Timothy came the same way Timothy had left earlier. Each had a small pack in thier hands. "We have what you asked for."

"They are not to be harmed." SHE ordered Sarah before speaking to them. "Please, come here."

"Liked you asked." Betty handed HER a pack. "All the clothes you brught with you. Clean n' dry from this mornin'."

"Thank you, Betty." SHE said politely.

"And clothes for your friend." added Timothy looking unsure at what to do.

"You can hand it to her." SHE assured. "She will not bite."

Timothy, with shaking hands, extended the pack to Sarah who could not keep her eyes off of his neck and lick her lips. Instead of attacked she looked down at the pack as if she had just noticed it and shouldered it.

"Here." SHE handed Betty and Timothy each a thin stack of paper. It wasn't until I saw the symbol for a dollar that realized the paper was money. "For the trouble."

"It was nothin', ma'am." said Timothy. "It's our job."

"That is not what I meant." SHE motioned to the basement. "I suggest you make your way to a more enlightened part of the country. Otherwise I'm afraid you will no doubt be blamed for the untimely passing of Mister Byrne and his wife."

Betty and Timothy went to the door and looked down. Timothy gasped while Betty crossed herself and uttered a prayer.

"I can't imagine you owe him much loyalty or any on this farm so I doubt his passing will cause you much grief, but someone will come looking for them sooner or later." SHE shouldered the pack. "I recommend taking this time to scrounge what you will need and head north to New York or New Jersey. Pennsylvania might also suffice. I, however, will be taking my leave. Come, Sarah, I tire of this so called "southern hospitality"."

Sarah spared a glance at Timothy and Betty, probably weighing her chances of draining them before SHE stopped her, before shouldering her pack and followed her maker out the door.

The world swirled and faded into view again, much faster this time, and I seemed to be floating alongside HER and Sarah. The farm was nowhere to be seen and thick forest obscured the night sky and either side of a dirt road they seemed to be walking along. The only source of light, not it was needed, was the light of the full moon that would occasionally find a break in the leaves of the trees overhead. I was not certain, but this road felt familiar. I wondered was because I had seen it in Sarah's memories or the feeling was coming from Sarah herself. My thoughts were interrupting when I heard HER voice.

"No." SHE said. "From tonight and on, you will only be able to survive on human blood. In time, you might be able to sustain yourself on the blood of animals in dire situations."

"How much?" Sarah asked. "I must have drained every single drop from their bodies, but I am still hungry."

"The feeling will pass, but as for one so young as you it will take some time." SHE explained. "In time, as you age and gain control of yourself, a mouthful every now and again will be sufficient."

It seemed SHE didn't want to waste time in explaining what she had done to Sarah. As they walked, SHE began explaining all of the basics — enhanced strength and speed, heightened senses, fangs, the lethality of sunlight and silver — occasionally answering a question Sarah asked. It sort of bothered me in strange way. SHE had never taken the time to do the same with me. The only time she elaborated was whenever I thought to ask a question. Naturally, I was too preoccupied in my new found freedom and new found pleasure in between my maker's legs to devote any more thought than occasionally wondering.

It wasn't long before we reached a large tree and saw SHE had led Sarah to where they had met. At the base of tree was a long pile of raised earth and a wooden cross made of dead branches. Resting against the trunk was a long rawhide bundle tied closed It seemed SHE done as promised and buried Christoph. Sarah approached the grave and knelt on a knee. Sarah then placed a hand on the grave and bowed her head. SHE observed all of this without a word for a moment then went behind the tree. When she stepped back into view, Sarah was standing and staring at the grave.

"Which do you want?" SHE asked.

Sarah looked up to see HER hold two long duster coats. One was very light brown and very familiar looking while the other was almost white in color and appeared to made of canvas or linen rather than leather.

"Those belong to me and Christoph." Sarah said to her.

"We will need so not to draw attention." SHE held them up. "Humans will ask how we are immune to the cold. Is there one you prefer?"

"The leather one." Sarah said. "It belonged to Christoph."

"Very well." SHE tossed it to Sarah and slipped on the remaining duster. "Are you ready to leave? We have quite journey to make."

"Where are we going?" Sarah took the bundle and unwrapped it.

"Virgina may not be your home, but it is vital to leave the area wherever and whenever a human is turned." SHE shrugged as she looked at how the coat fit her. "I have a home in New York."

"Where in New York?" Sarah asked while she buckled a holster from the bundle. "The city?"

"Yes." SHE said. "Five Points to be exact. It is not the safest of neighborhoods, but the constant flood of Irish and others is perfect for blending in as well hunting."

"Safety has not never been an option for me." Sarah said sliding a large knife into a sheath on left hip. "Not to mention that I'm no stranger to catching my dinner."

"Nor am I." SHE chuckled. "But this won't be the hunting you are acustomed to. What are you doing?"

"Didn't you say this Five Points was dangerous?" Sarah loaded a sawed off double barrel shotgun and slid it into the holster on the small of her back. "I have a couple of spare holsters."

"Humans and their weapons." SHE smiled amused. "Do you not recall what i said? Even now at your weakest point, you could overpower ten of the strongest men in the country with your bare hands. You are beyond them now."

"Won't that draw attention?" Sarah threw on the duster coat and slid a long rifle into a scabbard on her back. Sarah rolled her shoulders looked confused. "Hmm. This is strange."

"What is?"

"This." Sarah opened her coat to reveal her weapons. "Two pistols, a shotgun, a rifle, a knife, along with a holster for each and my bandoleer is filled to the brim with at least hundred or so rounds for all of them." Sarah rolled her shoulders and gyrated her hips slightly. "If I didn't know, I'd swear I just put on a shirt."

"Like I've telling you, you are much stronger than before." SHE handed Sarah a hat, it was the same Sarah had been wearing when I had met her. "Here. I thought you may wish to keep this."

"This was Christoph's." Sarah said almost to herself and stared at the hat in her hands.

"Yes. I know how — "

HER words were cut off as she found herself wrapped in Sarah's arms. SHE hesitated for a moment, no doubt taken by surprised, but she smiled warmly and returned the embrace. Sarah then slowly released until she was face to face with HER. Then, like all newborns after feeding, her instincts kicked in. Before she knew it, Sarah had her mouth on her maker's. This time, it wasn't much of a shock and SHE quickly began kissing her back. It went on for a minute before something clicked in Sarah's mind and she realized what she was doing. Just as sudden as it began, Sarah pushed herself away and retreated a few steps.

"I . . . that's not . . ." Sarah stammered at a loss for words. "I don't know . . . I've never . . . a woman . . ."

"It is fine." SHE assured gently and caressed Sarah's face with hand. "You will find certain urges difficult to resist. Some of those urges will lead to discoveries and desires about yourself you did not know were possible." SHE then planted a quick, but lingering kiss on Sarah's mouth. "I know because I speak from experience. Experience I would more than happy to share with you." SHE then turned and began walking back toward the road in the distance. "That will have to wait. Come, we have quite the journey to New York."

Sarah looked over to Christoph's grave.

"_Ich weiß, dass Sie diese Stadt wegen der mich erwählt , und Sie Ihr Bestes versucht, aber ich wollte Sie_ ." Sarah placed Christoph's hat and began following HER. "_Nie wieder , mein Liebling . Nie wieder_."

Then the world around me suddenly went black.

* * *

><p>I hadn't felt this weak, or hungry, since my first night. I struggled to open my eyes and a groan escaped my mouth. I blinked several times and tried to see where I was. A bed with high thread count sheets, a nightstand, a bookshelf filled with comic books in plastic bags. That's right. I was in my room. Sarah and I had done the Sibling's Embrace to share our memories and we had fallen asleep in bed together, after some relieving a basic urge or two. I looked down and saw Sarah was not in bed or in the room. I also saw the light in the hallway was on and I could hear the television on in the living room.<p>

It took far more effort than it should have, but I managed to drag myself out of bed and limped to the closet. I tore down a pair of pants and shirt. I made my way to the bed and sat down. I was pulling on my pants when I noticed my cane-sword was resting against the nightstand. I was reaching for it when the door flew open and flooded the room with the blinding glare of the sun. Alright, it was not true sunlight. However it was considerably bright considering vampires' natural night-vision and the fact my eyes had adjusted to a pitch dark room. I snarled and futilely threw my arms up to shield my eyes.

"Good!" said a familiar voice. "You're awake. I was beginning to worry after the second day."

"Sarah?" I managed weakly.

"Yes." I could feel her in front of me. "How do you feel?"

"Weak." I said as my eyes adjusted to the light. "And hungry."

"That is to be expected." She nodded. "You haven't fed for three days."

"What?!"

"Come." Sarah took my arm and put it around her shoulder. "Lean on me."

I did and Sarah supported me as she began leading me out.

"Some blood and you'll be fine." Sarah assured me. "I think your nestmate's progeny didn't completely drain her last meal."

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>AN**_ - Sorry for the long wait and short update. I made the mistake of overloading on classes for my first semester which didn't leave me anytime to write, or sleep for that matter, and was it by the grace of God, and maybe a few other deities, that I managed to pull a 3.0 GPA. I didn't make that mistake this time around, but you never know how professors will be. So I'll try to update more often, but no guarantees.

_**A/N II**_ - I know you'll have other questions about Sarah past ― how Wilhelmina left her, why did she think Wilhelmina was dead, certain famous bounties Sarah's brought in over the years, etc ―however rather than spend the next chapter or three about her past, I've chosen another way so that way I can continue Dom's story and continue fleshing out Sarah's. So read, review, and share.


End file.
